Disaster: See also, Remus J Lupin, lovelife of
by Lady Bracknell
Summary: Remus claims that his lovelife has always been a disaster. He’s had vases thrown at him, made girls cry in public and done very reckless things in broom cupboards. Mostly Marauders, RLNT eventually.
1. Olivia Crosby

**Disclaimer: Nope, not JK Rowling, so I can't claim ownership of anything Harry Potter related. I do own all of Remus' exes, though – they're locked in my airing cupboard for being mean to him.**

**A/N: "If you look up the word 'chequered' in the dictionary, under the explanation of what the word means, it actually says 'see also: Remus J Lupin, love-life of.' Interestingly enough, you'll find exactly the same phrase under the word 'disaster'." **

**This is a companion piece to The Werewolf Who Stole Christmas, inspired by the above sentences, which Remus says to Tonks after she pins him down about his romantic past. It shouldn't be too confusing if you haven't read that (although obviously, I'd be delighted if you did) – they're just going to be snapshots of his encounters with some of his more significant significant others, perhaps explaining a little about why he is who he is. All you really need to know is that my Remus has a little more Marauder in him than some…because I like him that way ; )**

* * *

_Remus,_

_I don't think we should go out any more. _

_Olivia._

Remus stared at the note. The library swirled away into nothingness as he realised that it did actually say what he thought it did. There was no hidden meaning, no subtext, nothing on the scrap of parchment but the words he desperately didn't want to believe. He contemplated the appropriate response, the appropriate emotion, bouncing his quill on his chin, his hand shaking slightly. He scribbled a reply.

_Why? _

The response was swift.

_Because David Reynolds asked me to go out with him and I said yes. _

He stared at it. He wished he hadn't asked. David Reynolds? Who on earth was David Reynolds?

Then he remembered. He was captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Git.

He scrawled the word 'fine' angrily, hoping that his emotion showed in his penmanship, and tossed the note back across the table at Olivia, his ex-girlfriend.

Bloody hell, he thought. I've got an ex-girlfriend. He'd never intended to have one of those. Olivia had been the first girl he'd ever really fancied, the first girl he'd asked out, the first girl he'd kissed. He'd had another couple of firsts that he thought they might get around to one day at the back of his mind, but instead of those, she'd decided to be the very first girl to rip his heart out.

David bloody Reynolds. He was short and stocky and had a very oddly-shaped head.

He stared at his Charms textbook until the words didn't look like words anymore. It was bad enough that she was dumping him at all, let alone doing it in the library where he couldn't cause a fuss, let alone doing it in a _sodding_ note. And as if that wasn't enough, she was leaving him for the worst Quidditch captain Hogwarts had ever seen, who had presided over the worst Hufflepuff losing streak since records began. What on earth did she see in him?

He stared at the passage on cheering charms so hard he was surprised his eyes weren't bleeding. He desperately wanted to be anywhere except sitting across the table from Olivia Crosby, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how upset he was.

Dignity wasn't a lot, but, _apparently_, it was all he had left.

He stared for exactly half an hour, turning the page at carefully timed intervals to keep up the pretence that he was actually reading, and then decided that that was probably long enough to have made the point that he really wasn't bothered about Olivia anymore, or David sodding Reynolds. He threw his things into his bag with forced casualness, and stalked out of the library.

He was halfway down the corridor when he realised he wasn't alone, and that whoever it was who was following him was saying his name and asking him to slow down. He glanced over his shoulder to see who it was, and then stopped so abruptly that Lily ran into him. "Sorry," she said, stepping back, catching her breath. "I was starting to wonder if you were ignoring me."

"Sorry," he said. His voice sounded distant, almost as if it was someone else speaking.

"Are you alright?"

He thought about it for a moment. He wasn't sure he'd ever been less alright, which given what he went through on a monthly basis, was rather an achievement on Olivia's part.

"What is it with girls?" he said.

"What do you mean?"

"They pretend they like you, they make you fall in love with them, and then one day, out of nowhere they reach into your chest, rip out your heart, toss it on the floor and stamp all over it."

"Are you being metaphorical?" she asked. He frowned at her quizzically.

"Yes," he said, his tone more bewildered than angry.

"Just thought I'd check," she said. "There's some pretty nasty hexes going around at the moment. In fact, that's where I was when I saw you. Some Slytherin sixth formers were –" she stopped and frowned. "You found out about David and Olivia, didn't you?"

"Found out about?" he said. What was there to find out about?

A large foreboding lump settled in his stomach. Suddenly he felt even less alright than he had thirty seconds ago, which he actually wouldn't have believed was possible. "That they've been, you know," Lily said, suddenly fascinated by the top of her own shoes. "Behind your back."

The world whirled away, and he was overtaken by the urge to be sick.

"I think I need to sit down," he said. He intended to slide down the wall and collapse on the floor, but Lily caught his elbow and dragged him a little way down the corridor and up the flight of stairs to the Prefect's bathroom. She muttered the password and shoved him inside.

"Sorry," she said, her voice echoing off the marble as she locked the door behind them. "I thought you knew. Me and my big mouth."

Remus sank onto the cold marble and pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly and rocking back and forth. He was suddenly quite grateful she hadn't let him do this in the corridor. "Does everybody know?" he said. Lily summoned a towel to sit on, and slid down beside him.

"I don't know," she said, softly. "I only know because I saw them."

"When?"

"Last week," she said. "Gave them a piece of my mind about it."

"Thanks."

"Fat lot of good it did," she said. "Will you stop that? You're making me sea sick."

"Sorry," he said. He stopped rocking, and chewed the skin around his nails instead.

David Reynolds. And his Olivia. Who had cheated on him. He wished he wasn't a prefect, then he wouldn't have seen the kind of thing people got up to in broom cupboards behind other people's backs. Now it seemed like the only thought his brain was capable of having, the only image it could focus on. David Reynolds and Olivia, doing things behind his back in broom cupboards.

"I never thought she was good enough for you," Lily said. He looked up from his knees.

"Didn't you?" he said, his voice oddly hollow.

"No. And for what it's worth, Gloriana Pritchard told me _he's_ all hands."

"Oh," he said, cheered for a moment until another thought occurred to him. A horrible, horrible, horrible thought. A new rush of nausea passed through him. "Do you think that's why she – because I didn't – "

"If she did it's a pretty stupid reason to break up with somebody. You're better off without her."

He knew that she was trying to make him feel better, and he smiled at her as best he could, feeling that it was probably about as successful an attempt as if he'd only had a smile described to him, once, by someone who had heard about what one was supposed to look like from a friend. "It doesn't feel like that," he said.

"No," Lily said. "Not at the moment. You will meet somebody else, though."

"Easy for you to say," Remus said. "Everybody fancies you."

"Do not," Lily said, blushing.

"They do," he said, "and you know it."

Lily blushed a shade deeper, and he felt momentarily better, until the image of Olivia and David Reynolds floated back through his mind. He felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. "How am I supposed to..?" he let the question hang, not even really knowing what it was he wanted to ask.

"You've just got to hold your head up high," she said. "And if anyone gives you a hard time, tell them they'll have me to deal with. Especially your so-called friends."

"My friends?" he said.

"Potter and Black. If I catch them making fun of you – "

"They're really nowhere near as bad as you think they are, you know."

She shot him a look of utter disbelief. "Did it ever occur to you," she said, "that there's a chance they are?"

"No," he said, and she laughed.

"Maybe we'll have to agree to disagree on that."

He was grateful for the momentary distraction, but as soon as her words finished echoing off the marble, he was back where he'd started: numb, nauseous and an odd combination of angry and sad.

He hugged his knees tighter, wondering what on earth he'd done to deserve this. "You didn't do anything wrong, you know," Lily said, apparently reading his mind. "It's not your fault."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Eat chocolate and mope," she said.

"That'll help, will it?"

"Yes," she said. "Trust me, I'm an expert."

He wasn't sure how long he sat, hugging his knees in the bathroom before Lily spoke again. "Are you feeling up to going to the common room?" she said, and he nodded, even though he was pretty sure it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. "Come on then," she said. "Let's see if we can't find those pesky friends of yours."

They walked back to the common room in silence. He wasn't really sure what there was to say. He muttered the password when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, and he stood back to let her go first. "Lily?" he said, and she turned. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

He scanned the room, relieved to find Olivia wasn't there. Neither were his friends. He trudged up the stairs to their room, and it seemed a very long way, the door at least twice as heavy as it was usually. He lumbered to his bed and dropped onto it, his head in his hands.

He could tell without looking up that his friends were staring at him. "Olivia dumped me," he said, thinking it was best to get it over and done with. "For David Reynolds."

"David Reynolds?" James said. "Why?"

Remus glared at him. James looked away abashed and studied the floor, having apparently realised that it wasn't a particularly helpful thing to say. "You didn't know, did you?" he asked.

"Know what?" Peter said.

"That they'd been – I don't know – doing things behind my back."

"Of course not," Sirius said.

"He'd be in the hospital wing if we had," James added.

Remus felt a little better that they hadn't known – not that he'd ever really believed that they wouldn't have told him if they had. But it was comforting. Peter always seemed to know everything about everyone, and if he hadn't sniffed out the gossip, there was a chance no-one else had either, and he was pretty certain Lily wouldn't say anything, even though he hadn't asked her not to. He was dumped, but not a total laughing stock. It wasn't much consolation, but some consolation was better than none at all.

"What are you going to do?" James asked.

"Lily seems to think that chocolate might help."

"Bollocks to that," Sirius said. "What you need is revenge."

Peter nodded enthusiastically. "Luckily for you," James said, "I had a brilliant idea when we were in detention yesterday."

"The one with the –" Sirius said, grinning ominously.

"Yep."

"Perfect," Sirius said. "No-one messes with our Moony."

Remus sat in detention a week later, writing the words '_As a prefect of this school I am supposed to know better than to fill other pupil's shoes with bubotuber pus_' for the four hundred and seventeenth time. He knew that what they'd done to David Reynolds was petty and stupid, and that really, he _should_ have known better, but he couldn't help returning Sirius' smile across the room. Revenge was a far better way of getting over it than chocolate.

Granted there was still an odd kind of ache in his chest whenever he thought of Olivia, and a stabbing pain whenever he thought that he wasn't with her any more…. And bile rose in his chest when he saw her, and rage quickly followed when he saw her and David Reynolds together…. And he hadn't slept all week, as hideous thoughts and images circled his brain like vultures, picking over his humiliation and leaving him nothing but a dejected carcass of his former self….

He sighed and shook his hand, trying to shake off the ache in his wrist before returning his quill to the parchment to scrawl his line for the four hundred and eighteenth time. In fact, now he came to think about it, he wasn't feeling better at all.

But he still had his friends and another two week's detention to keep his mind off things. And he supposed that was something.

* * *

**A/N: Anyone who reviews gets a Valentine's card from a fanfic Remus of their choice. Up for grabs we've got: Romantic Remus (hearts and flowers), Mischievous Remus (tasteless joke you laugh at in spite of yourself), Sexy Remus (no card, big snog), Flirty Remus (slightly suggestive poem) and Thoughtful Remus (something arty).**


	2. Susan Dixon

Remus walked up the stairs to the boys' dormitories, repeatedly smacking himself on the forehead.

You total, total idiot, he thought. You utter, utter moron. You absolute, unreserved, unmitigated, git.

He paused to open the door to their room, and then resumed. How could he have been so stupid? He hit his forehead with renewed vigour, punctuating the voice in his head with strikes to the front of his skull as it called him all the names it could think of.

Sirius looked up from the magazine he was reading and muttered a greeting Remus couldn't hear over the pounding of his hand on his forehead. "Why are you doing that?" Sirius said.

"Because I'm an idiot," Remus said. "And a git."

He sank down on the edge of his bed and drummed the heel of his hand into his eyebrow, hoping that he might somehow be able to just knock the memory of what he'd done out of his brain. It wasn't working. It was all he could see, all he could think about, and all he could feel. He hadn't even known sensations could come back so vividly, unbidden.

"What?" Sirius said, tossing his magazine aside and looking up a little too eagerly.

Remus grimaced, and gave himself three more knocks to the forehead. All it seemed to be doing was giving him a headache. "I just kissed Susan Dixon in the library," he said.

"How does that make you an idiot?" Sirius said with a look of utmost confusion that slowly became a nod of approval. "She's very kissable."

Remus sighed. Susan Dixon's relative kissability had absolutely nothing to do with it. "I shouldn't have done it," he said.

"But Susan's fancied you for ages," Sirius said, brow furrowed.

"Yes," Remus said, closing his eyes against the thought and the rather odd churning sensation in his stomach. "I know. That's what makes me a git."

"How does kissing a girl who you know fancies you make you a git?" Sirius said. Remus sighed again. He should have known Sirius would be the very last person who'd understand.

"Because," Remus said, as if he was explaining NEWT level Arithmancy to a five year old, "I don't even fancy her, but I knew she fancied me and…." He trailed off and tapped his forehead again with the heel of his hand, just because he couldn't think of anything else to do and he thought he probably deserved it. "Well," he said, reluctantly, "she was just _there_ and she seemed quite keen and so I kissed her because – "

To be honest, he wasn't entirely sure why he'd done it.

Well, he was.

David sodding Reynolds.

He'd been in the library, perfectly happy, when David and Olivia had come in, holding hands and smiling at each other like they invented being in love.

He was a little less than perfectly happy, then.

They'd sat at a table right in his line of sight and laughed at some private joke that he secretly suspected was him, and the familiar sensation of David Reynolds-inspired rage had started to gather in his chest.

But he'd been fine. Absolutely fine.

Well, not fine. Not fine at all, but on a fairly even keel at least.

And then Olivia had slid onto David's lap and started playing with the hair on his oddly-shaped head.

The even keel had been nothing but a distant memory. It was a wonky keel; a dangerously wonky keel.

And _then_ Olivia had started trying to separate David from his lips right in front of him, and, well….

Remus couldn't have remembered the name of the book he was reading if his life depended on it, but he remembered thumbing the index for a hex to turn David Reynolds's head into a sprout. He remembered thinking that he'd settle for a cabbage if he had to. He remembered being annoyed with himself for being petty enough to look up cruciferous-vegetable-head hexes, and being even more annoyed with himself for being annoyed that there wasn't one.

And that's when Susan Dixon had come over to sit next to him, told him she thought he looked miserable and asked if there was anything she could do to cheer him up.

Even though he'd already decided that it wasn't helpful, he smacked himself on the head three times in quick succession, ignoring the fact that Sirius was still waiting to hear the rest of the story.

Susan had a crush on him, and everyone knew it. He knew everyone knew because everyone had told him: Peter had told him, James had told him, Lily had told him, some fifth year he didn't even know had told him, and even Sirius had gotten in on the act, telling him that he should ask her out even though he didn't fancy her because – well, Remus hadn't really listened to the reasoning, but it was something about a certain thing and not looking gift horses in the mouth.

It had all started when she'd told him that some Slytherin boys were teasing her for being Muggle born and he'd said that if it happened again she should come and tell him and he'd sort them out.

He'd _meant_ that he'd sort it out because he was a prefect, and it wasn't until people started telling him that he had a not-so-secret admirer that it clicked that she might have thought he meant something else.

Of all the people who could have sat down next to him in the library and asked if they could do anything to cheer him up….

He'd said he was fine and tried to be convincing, and she'd asked if he wouldn't mind helping her with her homework if he wasn't too busy.

He'd thought about it for a moment, and decided that sitting there seething about David Reynolds and Olivia didn't really qualify as busy, and had agreed.

He'd had a thought – Sirius had suggested the previous day that rather than being 'a pathetic moping tosser' he should take action, try and make Olivia jealous or something – and for just the briefest of brief seconds, the thought that this would be the perfect opportunity had flitted through his mind.

But it was a brief flit. He'd barely registered the thought when he dismissed it.

Until, that was, he leant over to show Susan a passage in her textbook that he'd found useful, and Olivia stopped kissing David and started watching him. He'd wondered if perhaps Sirius was right, that perhaps Olivia was jealous that he was talking to another girl. Another girl who everyone knew liked him.

Now he was sitting on his bed and not in the library under Olivia's gaze, he thought that what he obviously _should_ have done was told himself not to be so ridiculous.

But, of course, he hadn't.

Susan had managed to get ink on her face somehow, and then….

He screwed his eyes shut, unable to stop replaying the image of him wiping the ink of her face and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

For a split second he'd thought that she was actually quite pretty, and wondered what it might be like to kiss her, and unfortunately, that was all it took, and before he really knew what was happening he was finding out.

It had been nice. Very nice. At first it had felt odd to be kissing someone other than Olivia and he'd had a flash of doubt that he might have forgotten how to do it, but soon enough the sensation of her lips on his had taken over. He'd been surprised how different it felt, but it was a good different.

And, ashamed as he was to admit it, knowing that Olivia was watching him kiss Susan, well, meant that he kept doing it for a bit longer than perhaps he would have otherwise.

And then he'd had a thought: what _on earth_ are you doing?

And another one: are you _actually_ doing something Sirius thinks is a good idea?

He'd come to his senses pretty quickly after that, offered Susan a weak smile, mumbled something that he hoped, but doubted, was non-committal about the subject of going to the Quidditch together on Saturday and made as hasty an exit as he thought was polite under the circumstances.

And that's when the voice in his head had started calling him all the names it could think of, and then inventing some new ones because the ones it could think of didn't really do justice to quite what a git he'd been.

"I only did it – " he said. He paused, almost too ashamed to say it out loud. He screwed his eyes shut and swallowed. Wasn't confession supposed to be good for the soul? "I only did it because Olivia was there with her tongue down David Reynolds's throat," he said quickly.

He didn't feel any better. Sirius looked confused for a moment, mentally separating his garbled words. "You decided to take my advice to stop being a pathetic moping tosser and make her jealous, then?" he asked, a rather smug expression on his face.

"Yes," Remus said, glowering. "And now I feel like a git. So thank you."

"Makes a change from feeling depressed and miserable," Sirius muttered. "Did it work?"

Remus ignored the question. "I shouldn't have done it," he said. "Now Susan's going to think I – and we're – and I'm going to have to – and she'll hate me – "

"Could I have the slightly less cryptic version?"

"I think there's a chance we're going to the Quidditch together."

"How much of a chance?"

"A very real chance."

"Why?"

"Because I think I asked her if she wanted to go with me."

"Why did you do that?"

Remus didn't really know why, and he knew that by doing it he'd compounded his problem ten fold. But it had seemed like the thing to do at the time. He didn't want her to think that he'd just kissed her because Olivia was watching and she was there and he thought she wouldn't mind.

He didn't want her to think that. Even though it was the truth.

Remus wailed a nondescript word that seemed to only have consonants in it, grabbed a book from the pile on his bedside cabinet and smacked himself on the head with it before groaning and flopping back on his bed. "Well I think it's a good thing," Sirius said. "Progress. At least you're uttering whole sentences now."

"Oh yes," he said, "this is a big improvement. Now I'm miserable, depressed, stressed and a git. I've got a date with a girl I don't even like who really likes me, _and_ I've got a pounding headache."

He let out an exasperated sigh. How could he have let this happen? How could he have done that to her? How could he have –

The door flew open and James and Peter barrelled into the room, animatedly talking about how they were sure to trounce Hufflepuff on Saturday. Remus curled up into a ball and stared at the wall, wondering whether if he really, really, wanted to, he could just cease to exist.

"Are you alright?" Peter said, tossing his cloak onto the top of his trunk.

"No."

"What's the matter?"

"Did you ever do something so unbelievably stupid that you just wanted to gouge your own brain out with a spoon, just to get rid of the memory?" Remus said. "Or wish you could turn back time just so you could slap yourself really hard? Or did you ever have the feeling that all you want to do is hide somewhere really small so you never, ever, have to deal with another human being ever, ever again, because you're obviously totally bloody useless at it?"

Peter stopped what he was doing and gazed at him, open-mouthed with incomprehension. "Er, no," he said, eying him warily. "I don't think so."

"Why are you being all melodramatic again?" James said. "I thought we were over that?"

Remus shot Sirius a pleading glance and then pulled his pillow over his head and groaned into it. "You tell them," he said.

"He snogged Susan Dixon in the library to make Olivia jealous and now he feels really bad about it because he's a big girl."

"I am not a big girl," Remus muttered into the pillow.

"But you just kissed her?" James said. "It's not like you agreed to go out with her or anything."

Remus lifted the pillow far enough to raise an eyebrow at James. "I thought we talked about the benefits of the kiss and run?" James said.

"Oh he's got the kissing and the running mastered," Sirius said. "It's just the bit in between where he managed to accidentally ask her out that we need to work on."

"Accidentally?" James said. "How on earth did you manage to ask a girl out accidentally? Six months ago you couldn't even ask a girl out on purpose."

Remus pulled the pillow tighter over his face, half-hoping he'd suffocate. All it really did was make his face sweaty. He sat up, tossed his pillow aside and slumped against the headboard. "What am I going to do?"

"I could get off with her, if you want," Sirius said.

"What?" Remus said.

"Well then you'd be able to break up with her for cheating on you, thereby retaining the moral high ground and your reputation as a _good boy_."

Peter and James exchanged glances, shrugged and nodded half-heartedly. "How do you know she would even – " Remus trailed off as Sirius raised an eyebrow at him and grinned. "Does your ego know no bounds?"

James rolled his eyes. "I think we all know the answer to that," he said.

Potter, kettle, calling, Black, Remus thought.

"It's not a bad idea, though," James said.

"And," Sirius said, "in the highly unlikely event that she does turn me down, she'd come running to you to tell you what a pig I am for trying to get off with my best mate's new girlfriend, and you'd refuse to believe that I'd do that and break up with her for bad-mouthing me."

"The only flaw in the plan being that no-one on the face of the planet – let alone someone who knows you as well as I do – would believe you wouldn't do that," Remus said.

"Hey!" Sirius said, doing a good impression of being genuinely insulted. "I wouldn't."

"Like you didn't try and kiss Olivia before I asked her out?"

"I didn't _try_ and kiss her – "

"That's not what she said."

" – I did kiss her."

It took Remus' addled, headachy, brain a moment to process what Sirius had just said. "What?" he said. His tone was a little angrier than he expected.

"She's the one who broke your heart," Sirius said, raising his hands defensively. "Not me." Remus glowered for a moment. Sirius smirked. "Did she always do that weird thing with her tongue?"

"What weird thing wi – "

Remus stopped himself just in time. He had no desire, on top of everything else, to become the kind of person who discussed _that_ kind of thing with his friends. Especially friends like Sirius. "That's beside the point. How could you?"

"How was I supposed to know you liked her?"

"You could have asked!"

"What?" Sirius said. "Now I'm supposed to ask your permission before I get off with a girl?" Remus folded his arms across his chest and let out an annoyed sigh. "Just so you know, I'm planning to take Heather Noonan to the Quidditch this Saturday," Sirius continued. "Assuming, that is, it's alright with you."

Remus' anger dissipated as soon as it had flared. "She's nuts," he said. Sirius grinned.

"I know."

Remus flopped back on his bed and stared at the canopy. He knew what he'd done to Susan was very unfair – to kiss a girl he wasn't even interested in just to make someone else jealous was bad enough, to choose to kiss the one girl he knew had feelings for him was pretty much unforgivable. And then to _somehow_ ask her out…. He was caught in a hideous hinterland between wanting to deal with Susan like a man and wanting to curl up in the smallest place he could find and hide until it all went away.

He knew he should do the right thing – just come clean and deal with whatever happened next, but the other option seemed so much more appealing. He half-heartedly eyed his bedside cabinet and wondered if he'd fit.

"What am I going to do?"

"I've still got half an hour – "

"We're not doing that," Remus said, rolling his eyes at the very idea.

"You could tell her the truth?" Peter offered.

"And then wait for her to kill you," Sirius said. "Nice plan, Pete."

James looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe you should just take Susan to the Quidditch?" he said. "She might grow on you."

"Like a fungus?"

"A nice fungus," Sirius said. "She's a much better kisser than Olivia."

Well that was true, Remus thought. And then hated himself for thinking it.

"Is there any girl in this school you haven't kissed?" he said, trying his best to sound appalled.

"Yes. Heather Noonan, for starters."

"Tell me that's not the only reason you're going out with her."

Deafening silence.

"You're unbelievable."

"I know," Sirius said, his voice lilting with amusement.

Remus stared at the canopy, his brain full of swirling thoughts he didn't want to have to think and images he didn't want to see again. One thought seemed a little louder than the others, though. "When did you kiss Susan?"

"A while ago," Sirius said. "She came over to me in the common room one night and asked me what kind of girls you liked and how she should try and get your attention. I told her to ask you for help with her homework."

Remus closed his eyes and sighed. "Oh bloody marvellous," he said, rolling his eyes. Sirius shot him a what-did-I-do? look. "What do you think I was doing with her in the library?" he said. James and Peter sniggered. "Why didn't you just tell her you didn't think I was interested?"

"Why didn't _you_ just tell her you weren't interested?"

"Because – "

"Because you wanted to kiss her and make Olivia jealous."

Remus opened his mouth to protest before realising that just because he didn't want to admit it, it didn't mean they didn't all know it was true. "She said she didn't want too much help," he wailed in his own defence. "She just wanted a bit of a hint so she could figure the rest out for herself."

Sirius smirked. "I told her you were a sucker for that," he said.

"Was that before or after you stuck your tongue down her throat?" he said, his tone rather more tetchy than he expected.

"You make it sound so unromantic."

"Oh it was romance of the century, I'm sure."

"Don't try and take the moral high ground with me, Moony," he said, wagging his finger at him. "I'm not the one wearing her lip gloss."

Remus rubbed the back of his hand across his lips and blushed. James' lips twitched in amusement, and Remus knew that as soon as he left them alone, he and Sirius would be roaring with laughter at the situation he'd managed to get himself into. "What's the plan, then?" James said, desperately trying not to laugh.

"Go to the Quidditch with her?" Remus said. "Try not to give her the wrong idea?"

"You don't think that kissing her and then taking her to the Quidditch _is_ giving her the wrong idea?" James said.

"I'll – " Remus paused, unsure what on earth he was going to do. "I'll put her off me."

"Put her off you?"

"Shouldn't be too hard," Remus said. "After all, as you're all so very fond of reminding me, I'm a pathetic moping tosser. Who in their right mind would want to go out with me more than once anyway?"

Remus stood as far away from Susan in the Gryffindor stand as he could, given that he was standing next to her. The crowd weren't making it easy, and neither was she – every time he edged away she edged closer, and as every cheer rose they'd be pushed together as people jumped around and hugged. Why did James have to be scoring so many bloody goals?

After about ten minutes he came to the grudging conclusion that James was right, and that just the very fact that he was there with her was giving her the wrongest of wrong ideas.

Idiot.

He edged a little further away anyway, trying to avoid standing on other people's toes and failing. He was so preoccupied that he didn't even notice until an almighty gasp erupted around him that David Reynolds had performed an over-enthusiastic breaking charm, catapulted himself off his broom in quite a spectacular fashion, and had broken his leg.

Under normal circumstances, he probably would have cheered. He might even have danced. But somehow, it had no uplifting effect on him whatsoever, in fact, only serving to make him even more miserable.

After the match had finished, they trudged back to the castle. Well, he trudged. Everyone else ran, whooping.

There was the traditional victory party in the common room, and Remus stood by the fire, desperately clinging to his Butterbeer and running a mental inventory of how his plan was going. Susan didn't seem to be being put off him at all, even though he'd been a pathetic moping tosser for most of the day. It hadn't taken a lot of effort.

He'd tried everything he could think of. He'd been boring – he'd even talked about books on Ancient Runes – but she'd just smiled at him and asked questions as if she was interested in what he was saying. He'd tried not saying anything at all, but she'd got all embarrassed, and blushed and stared at her feet, and he'd recognised so much of himself in her actions that he just couldn't persist with it, because he knew exactly how she must be feeling. He was fast running out of ideas.

It wasn't that he didn't like her. She was very sweet, and good company, and kissing her had been very nice but…. She just didn't make him nervous. He supposed that was what had caused all the problems. If he'd actually have fancied her, he probably wouldn't have had the nerve to kiss her in the first place.

There was only one thing for it.

He waited until she went to the toilet and then darted over to his friends. He fixed Sirius with his best imploring look. "You're going to have to get off with her," Remus said desperately.

"I don't think Heather would like that," Sirius said, eying the corner of the room warily. "And she scares me."

Remus swallowed the urge to wail. "James?" he asked hopefully.

"What if Evans sees me?"

"Since when are you two such a pair of cowards?"

They exchanged a rather disgruntled look. "We're not the ones asking our friends to get off with our _girlfriend_ because we're not man enough to tell her we're not interested," James said.

Remus thought about it and came to the grudging conclusion that he had a point. "Peter?" he asked. Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that. Sirius spluttered a laugh.

"As if Susan would even look twice at – "

"Oh thanks," Peter said, crossing his arms and looking thoroughly disgruntled. "It's always nice to know what your friends really think of you."

Remus sighed. Susan had come back and was waving at him. "Anybody have any bright ideas?" he said through a forced smile. Three blank faces stared back at him. "I'll take anything that'll get me out of this without hurting her feelings and making me feel like even more of a git than I feel now. Anything."

Silence.

"You're just going to have to tell her the truth," James said.

"Hate to agree," Sirius said, "but I think he's right."

Remus grimaced. He'd known even before he'd asked that they were right. In fact, he'd known all along. "Wish me luck," he said grimly.

As it happened, he needed far more than luck. A complete personality change would have been a start, he thought, and possibly a script.

He'd found a quiet spot near the fire, where Lily was chatting quietly with a first year about the match, and his friends were as far away as they could be. The last thing he needed was them watching and sniggering at him. They'd probably be running a sweep stake on how long it'd take him to do it or whether she'd slap him. He started out promisingly enough with a 'Susan, I think we need to talk', and then things went rapidly downhill when he started trying to explain things.

"It's not that I don't like you," he said, quietly. He glanced up at the ceiling in thought. "Well it is – "

Her face fell and his insides shrivelled up as he realised that that was The Worst Possible Thing He Could Have Said. He scratched around the arid corners of his mind for something comforting or reassuring to say, knowing that there was nothing he _could_ say that would obliterate the last words he'd said. "Not that I don't _like_ you like you – it's just that – I don't _like_ you like you like _that_ – "

He wondered if there was a record for using the word 'like' the most times in one sentence. If there was, he felt sure he was in the running. "What I mean is that I don't think I like you in the same way that you like me."

"Why did you kiss me, then?" she said.

Because I'm an idiot and a git, he thought.

"I shouldn't have," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Yes," he said.

"You're sorry you kissed me?"

"Not sorry sorry," he said, "because it was nice – very nice – but – "

"Did you just kiss me because you wanted Olivia to be jealous?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and wondered what he should say. The truth seemed too, well, truthful, but lying just seemed, well, worse….

"I'm an idiot and a git," he said. She didn't argue. He hadn't really been expecting her to. "You can hit me if you want," he offered. "I deserve it."

She stared at the carpet and he screwed his eyes shut, feeling absolutely rotten, knowing he had no-one to blame but himself, and thinking that he was the very last person he should be concerned about. He hesitated for a moment and then put his hand on her arm. "Will you be alright?" he asked.

She nodded, and offered him a tight-lipped smile. "I really am sorry," he said.

"Ok," she said, and shrugged. "I think I might go to bed."

He watched her disappear up the girl's dormitory stairs and then sank onto the sofa nearest the fire. He was just resting his head on his hand and letting out a sigh of relief that it was, at least, over, when someone hit him round the back of the head.

He ducked far too late, his hand flying to the throbbing spot on the back of his skull where someone had just whacked him, and looked up, fully expecting to see Susan having apparently changed her mind. He took in red hair and a furious expression and knew he was in trouble.

Lily threw herself down next to him, crossed her arms and glared.

"What was that for?" he asked feebly. As if you don't know, he thought.

"Turning into a _boy_," she said.

He stared into the flames and wondered if his face was hot because he was sitting so close to the fire or because she'd succeeded in making him feel so utterly disappointed in himself that his skin was burning with shame.

He wondered about it for a long time, eventually coming to the conclusion that it was the latter.

He really hoped Susan would be alright. He couldn't stand the thought that he might have made her feel even a tenth as bad as Olivia had made him feel. He didn't think he possibly could have done, but it wasn't the kind of thing he thought he should leave to chance.

"I know in light of all the violence this is probably the wrong time – " he said, turning towards Lily a little on the sofa. Her eyes flickered with something that looked a little bit like amusement, and she uncrossed her arms, which he took as a positive enough sign that continuing might not be detrimental to his health. " – but could I ask a favour?"

Lily rolled her eyes at him, but then nodded. "Could you go upstairs for me and make sure she's really alright?" he said. Lily unclenched her jaw and he offered her a sheepish smile, before fixing his eyes firmly on the sofa cushions. "Tell her you never thought I was good enough for her," he said. "Give her your speech about moping and chocolate if you have to."

Lily's face softened back into its normal one and she smiled at him briefly. Then she did something he really wasn't expecting. She leant over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"What was that for?" he said. Lily got to her feet and looked at him for a moment.

"Still being marginally better than the rest of them," she said.

* * *

**A/N: Many, many, thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. **

**Some of you (quite a lot of you, in fact) thought Remus needed a hug after the last chapter. If you still think he deserves one, leave a review, form an orderly queue and he's all yours : )**


	3. Elsa Whitmore

Remus felt awful about Susan Dixon for a month, and then made exactly the same mistake with Elsa Whitmore.

Well, not exactly the same mistake. A slightly different one. A slightly bigger one, because he'd only kissed Susan once, and he'd done far more than that with Elsa.

Elsa was a Ravenclaw prefect, and she was clever, and pretty – in her own messy, shambolic kind of way, and she made him laugh, a lot. They talked for hours about books they thought the other should read, and she had extraordinarily astute and bizarre views that seemed to make perfect sense when she explained them to him.

And she was his girlfriend. She had been for two months, ever since she had started to flirt with him after prefect meetings.

At first he hadn't been sure that that was what she was doing, but then she'd put her hand on his arm for absolutely no reason whatsoever, and he didn't know a lot about girls, but he knew enough to know that that was a good sign. And he knew enough about boys to know that thinking that he thought it was a good sign meant that he fancied her.

A better sign, a bigger sign that he did was that when she'd put her hand on his arm and brushed her hair out of her eyes and smiled at him, for the first time in months he'd felt a twitch of something that wasn't despair or guilt in his stomach. He'd taken her to the Quidditch and then to Hogsmeade and actually had fun with her, and the first time he'd kissed her he'd really, really meant it.

He liked that Elsa made him feel something – something other than everything he had been feeling, something other than depressed and miserable and worthless and filled with rage about David sodding Reynolds.

Elsa was lovely. Completely lovely, and he thought that if he'd have had a sensible cell in his brain he probably would have been head over heels in love with her, because she was everything he'd ever thought he wanted in a girl. In fact, she was everything he'd thought Olivia was and hadn't been.

She was also staring at him and waiting for an answer.

Oh bloody hell.

The seconds ticked by. He could actually hear them, although he supposed that there was the slimmest of chances that the noise he could hear wasn't the passage of time at all but the frantic pounding of his heart.

It wasn't that he didn't understand the question or that he didn't know the answer, more that the answer he knew he owed her wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to have to say out loud.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, because he did – and it wasn't because of Olivia that he'd gone out with her. Well, not entirely, although he had done some things _slightly_ more publicly than he would have done otherwise, just to prove how very, very over her and David sodding Reynolds he was.

He realised that she was still gazing out at him from behind a fine veil of hair, and waiting for an answer to the question 'Why do I get the feeling your heart's not really in this?'.

"Erm – " he said, eying the interior of the broom cupboard for answers he knew it didn't hold.

He took a couple of deep breaths, wondering if he really had the guts to say what he felt.

The frantic pounding of his heart and desperate urge to run away and hide seemed to indicate otherwise.

He took another deep breath, realising too late that all the deep breaths were really doing was making him light-headed. He sighed and closed his eyes. "I suppose it feels like my heart's not really in this because – " he paused to steal himself " – it isn't, not really."

He expected to feel better, to be relieved that he'd finally said what he'd been feeling for a while, but he didn't. Any relief was washed away by the sudden and rather urgent need to explain himself, because Elsa was lovely and deserved nothing less. He wasn't even sure he knew how to put it into words, though.

"It's not that I don't like you," he said quickly, "because I do – anyone in their right mind would be totally and utterly in love with you because you're – you're so kind and interesting and – lovely. And very, very – I mean gorgeous – but, well, it's me." He swallowed and stared at the floor. "I'm not in my right mind, not at all. It's just – I'm not sure my heart would really be in doing this with anybody at the moment."

Bloody hell, he thought. He had known how to put it into words after all. He'd said it so quickly that he hadn't had time to think – he'd just opened his mouth and the truth had come out.

He supposed that really, his heart hadn't been in anything for a long time. He wanted it to be – he supposed he'd thought that if he just tried…. He liked Elsa, he really did, and he desperately wanted to be in love with her, but he knew as certainly as he knew his own name that he wasn't.

"Because of Olivia Crosby, right?" she said.

"Erm, yes," he said, sheepishly. "I suppose."

"I thought so," she said, and she gave him the same faint smile of realisation she normally did when she'd figured something out. It was the very last thing he expected.

How could Elsa have known that was the case if he'd only just realised it himself?

"Really?" he said.

"Yeah," she said. "You've been giving off this kind of weird energy lately."

"Have I? I didn't – er – I didn't mean to."

"That's the cool thing about energy," she said. "It's not about what you mean to do – what your, like, conscious mind says you should be doing, it's about your insides, how you really feel. It's like magic. You just feel it."

"Oh."

"I've got this amazing book about it," she said. "It's not full of all that new age hippie crap – it's really in depth and kind of practical. I think you'd really like it."

Remus closed his mouth when he realised he'd been staring at her with it open. He didn't know what to say. He'd just told her that his heart wasn't really in doing the kind of thing people did in broom cupboards with her, and she was trying to talk to him about books. "You look weird," she said.

I'll bet, he thought.

"Sorry. It's just – this is really bizarre," he said. "You're supposed to be angry – you're supposed to be slapping me, or shouting at me, or something, not offering to lend me books."

"I like to lend you books," she said. "I don't see why us breaking up should change that, do you?"

"I suppose not."

"I mean we liked each other enough to do all this stuff together," she said, waving vaguely at their bodies, "why can't we like each other enough not to turn into total raving monsters just because things didn't work out?"

He supposed that that was a very good point. "You're really not angry?"

"No," she said, looking a little puzzled by the very suggestion. "I think I understand how you must've been feeling. What Olivia did to you was really horrible," she said.

"It doesn't give me the right to be horrible to other people, though, does it?"

She smiled at him gently as if she understood something that he didn't. "You haven't been horrible to me," she said, sweeping her hair out of her face. "You've been very, very nice and this has been a lot of fun. I've really liked getting to know you – and that probably never would have happened if we hadn't fancied each other. So, I mean, things haven't worked out, you know, romantically, but it's not like we haven't gotten anything out of it. Making a new friend is always cool, and I'd really like it if we could stay that way. Friends."

"I think I'd like that too," he said. "You really are alright about this?"

"Of course," she said. "You're not _that_ cute."

"Oh."

"Well you are," she said, giving him a playful nudge with her elbow and letting out the kind of feather-light chuckle that made him think he should have just kept his mouth shut. "But I'll be fine."

"I'm glad."

"Will _you_ be alright?"

"Honestly?" he said, and she nodded. He studied the ceiling, but it didn't know either. "I haven't the faintest idea."

Elsa pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back, and the only thing he could think was how bizarre this all was. He'd seen Sirius break up with lots of girls. There wasn't supposed to be hugging, there was supposed to be shouting and screaming and crying…and possibly violence.

"Well, I'd better be going," she said. "I don't want to get into trouble for being in a broom cupboard with you if we're not even doing anything." She gave him a toothy grin and opened the door, and as the light from the corridor spilled in he noticed something on the floor. An article of clothing that he'd almost forgotten about. He bent down to pick it up and held it out to her.

"Elsa?" he said, wincing as embarrassment coursed through him. "Don't you want your bra back?"

The door swung closed behind her, and he leant against the shelves and let out an embarrassed sigh. If I live to be a hundred, he thought, I will never utter a more humiliating sentence than that.

He took a moment to compose himself, and then decided to go to bed and hope that everything would make more sense in the morning.

He trudged to Gryffindor Tower and up the stairs to their bedroom, and as he pushed the door open, a suspicious silence descended. He looked from Peter to James to Sirius and found each face fixed into a studiedly innocent expression. "Anything I should know about?" he said.

"No," James said.

"Definitely not," Peter added.

"Why don't I believe you?" he said, looking from face to face.

"Bitter experience?" Sirius offered.

Remus rolled his eyes at them. He recognised the tell-tale silence and the innocent expressions all too well. He just wasn't sure he really had the energy for it. "What are you plotting?" he said wearily, and they all spoke at once.

"Nothing."

"Plotting? Us?"

"Don't worry your pretty prefect head about it."

Remus let out an exasperated sigh. "Why don't you just tell me what it is," he said, "and I'll put you in detention now, and it'll save us all a lot of hassle?"

"Where's the fun in that?" James said.

"Alright," Remus said, throwing himself on his bed and lazily flicking his wand at the drapes to close them. "Plot away. Pretend I'm not here."

The curtains fluttered open almost as soon as they'd closed. "What's wrong?" Peter asked.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Yes it is," James said.

"No lecture," Sirius said. "Dead giveaway."

Remus sighed and folded his arms across his chest. "Elsa and I kind of split up," he said. "That's all."

"What happened?" James said.

"I thought you liked her?" Sirius said.

"And she likes you," Peter added, "everybody says so."

"I just – I suppose my heart wasn't really in it," he said.

"Your heart?" James said, his eyebrows creasing together.

"Does your heart have to be in it?" Sirius said. "Can't it just be about – you know, other organs?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Seriously," Sirius said. "Wasn't it your heart that caused you all the trouble with Olivia?"

"That's not the point."

"It is the point. It's exactly the point."

"You don't have to be in love with every girl you go out with," James said. "You can just have fun, you know, until someone you really like comes along. Or until the girl you really like, you know, realises she likes you too." Remus had the distinct feeling that James was talking rather more about his own situation than anything else, but he appreciated the effort.

He knew what they were saying, and to a certain extent he understood, he just…well, it just didn't seem very him, that was all. He knew that he didn't _have _to be in love with every girl he went out with…he just thought that, perhaps, he wanted to be.

"Can we talk about something else?" Remus said. "How's Heather?"

"Nuts," Sirius said, grinning. "Last night we went up the Astronomy Tower and she threatened to throw herself off if I didn't do something to convince her life was worth living, so I – "

"On second thoughts I don't want to know."

"You know she's got this friend – "

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" Sirius protested.

"And yet the answer's still no."

James and Sirius exchanged a glance that he couldn't quite work out, and he decided that his best – in fact, his only – course of action was a change of subject. "What are you plotting, anyway?" Remus said. If anything would get their minds of his love-life, it was talking about their latest prank.

"Do you promise not to try and talk us out of it?" James said.

"No," Remus said, "but it's not as if you ever listen anyway."

"Well that's true," Sirius said.

"You know it's McGonagall's birthday on Wednesday?" James said. "We thought we'd give her a little present."

"I take it we're not talking something with a tasteful card and a bow on top?"

"Oh no," James said, "something much more interesting than that. What we're planning is a very advanced piece of transfiguration. I'm sure she'll be impressed."

"I'm sure she won't," Remus muttered, not that anyone would listen to him.

"Well we'll see, won't we?" James said.

Remus sat at the table in the Great Hall, half-heartedly chewing on some toast while his friends bolted down as much breakfast as they could in preparation for their morning's detention with Professor McGonagall.

She hadn't thought having all of the desks in her classroom transfigured into catnip shrubs (well, two-thirds – Peter had bungled his and just vanished them – in fact, she'd seemed more vexed about that than the effects of the catnip) was impressive, or if she had, she'd kept it well hidden behind the veil of a stern lecture.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and Remus turned round to see Elsa smiling at him from behind a curtain of hair. He stood up, painfully aware that behind him, three mouths had stopped chewing and forks hovered mid-air as his friends watched him.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she said. "I just – well, this is the book I was telling you about."

She held it out to him, and he glanced down at the cover briefly and then took it from her. "Thanks," he said, and she smiled.

"Let me know what you think of it," she said, and then she pulled him into a hug, which he gladly returned, and then left to rejoin her friends who were waiting for her by the door.

Remus sat down and went back to his toast. "What was that about?" James said. "I thought you said you'd split up?"

"We have."

"Then what's with all the hugging?"

A little way down the table, Lily tutted loudly. "_Some_ people, Potter, can show affection to other people without feeling the need to grope them. Mature people, that is."

"Aw Evans," James said. "I'd show you affection, given half a chance."

Lily glowered and went back to her porridge, and James poked dejectedly at his scrambled egg. "What's the book about?" Peter asked to break the rather uneasy silence that had descended.

"Energy and magic," Remus said. He turned it over and read the quotes on the back from esteemed thinkers he'd never heard of. "Sounds interesting."

"Well at least you won't be bored while we're gone," Sirius said, standing up. "Come on, boys, our date with McGonagall beckons."

James shot a shifty look at Lily as if he wished Sirius hadn't said anything to remind her about their detention. "I did tell you – " Remus said.

"We know," Sirius said. "We'll listen next time. And you must admit, it was pretty funny when she started sniffing it."

Remus gave them a non-committal nod and they left. He turned to his book until Lily slid down the bench into the spot Peter had been sitting at and regarded him with her head on one side. "Just you and me, then," she said.

"Looks like," he said.

"So what do you want to do?" Lily said. "Do you fancy a walk around the lake?"

"Can't," Remus said. "David and Olivia were heading out there."

"You can't hide from them forever."

"I can try."

Lily laughed. "Common Room?" she suggested.

"Susan."

"Library?"

"Elsa."

Lily broke into a wide smile, her eyes dancing with amusement. "You do seem to have rather littered the place with exes lately," she said.

"Yes," he said sheepishly. "I know."

Lily got to her feet and motioned for him to do the same. "Come on," she said. "We'll get some fresh air."

"I can't. Olivia – "

"Don't be such a wuss," she said, and before he had chance to protest she grabbed his sleeve and dragged him to his feet.

They made for the lake, Lily ignoring his protests and telling him that it was big enough that they probably wouldn't even run into each other, and when he protested that knowing his luck he'd chance upon them rolling around on the grass, she rolled her eyes at him and told him to stop being such a pessimistic misery-guts. He wondered if he should tell her that his preferred term was 'pathetic moping tosser'.

"So what's the plan?" she said. "Who's your next victim?"

"My next..?"

"You're quite the ladies man these days," she said. "I was just wondering who was next."

Remus scowled at her playfully and then asked if she'd like to sit down. It was a pleasant spring day, and it seemed a waste to carry on walking, wondering when he'd run into David and Olivia when he could just sit here instead and not have to think about it. She sank down onto the grass next to him and toyed with a blade of grass, while he idly flicked through the pages of the book Elsa had given him. "Actually, I think I'm just going to give up on girls," he said. "Evidently I'm no good at it."

"That's not what I've heard," she said, and he looked up to find her sporting a cheeky grin that either Sirius or James would have been proud of.

"What?"

"Everything I've heard about what it's like to – er – go out with you has been positive," she said.

There was something about the way Lily said the words 'go out with you' that made Remus think that the actual going out he'd done with girls was the very last thing she was talking about. "Really?" he said, studying the book in his hands. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear any more or not.

"If you wanted, I could cheer you up in less than ten words."

"I'm not sure anything could cheer me up at the moment."

"Want a bet?" she said. She delved into her pocket and pulled out a bar of chocolate in distinctive Honeydukes wrapping. "This says that I can cheer you up in less than ten words," she said, waving it vaguely at him.

He shut the book and tossed it onto the grass. "Go on, then."

Lily held up her fingers. "Elsa," she said, folding a finger down as she ticked off each word, "said you were a better kisser than Sirius."

In spite of himself, Remus laughed. "Obviously she was lying."

"She gave details," Lily said. "It was very interesting."

Remus screwed his eyes shut, not entirely sure why he suddenly felt so embarrassed. "Do I want to ask what she said?" he asked.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On how much redder you want to go."

"What am I at now?" he said.

"Strawberry."

"I can go to crimson," he said. "Is that far enough?"

"Not _nearly_ far enough," Lily said. "Olivia said the same thing. Before she lost her mind and ditched you for what's-his-face, that is."

Remus waited a moment for his face to return to something approaching its normal colour. He supposed it was a good job he'd only found out now that girls did in fact talk about that kind of thing – if he'd found out before he kissed Olivia for the first time, he wasn't sure he'd have had the nerve to do it at all. "I bet Susan didn't have anything particularly nice to say about me," he said, not really wanting to dwell on anything Lily had said.

"Actually, she thought it was very good of you to only kiss her once when she clearly would have let you do it again, and she did say that at least she'd gotten to snog you once, and that it'd been pretty fantastic."

"Oh."

"I'm thinking of kissing you myself, actually," she said, "just to see what all the fuss is about."

Remus glared at her playfully, and she grinned. "Now you're just making fun of me," he said.

"What would you do if I wasn't?"

"Run for the hills."

"Thanks!" she said, laughing. "I didn't think I was _that _bad."

"No – just – James would _kill_ me. Then he'd bring me back from the dead just so he could do it again more slowly."

"Good job I was making fun of you, then."

"In deed," he said, watching the sun sparkle on the lake's surface.

"What are you going to do now?" she said. "Continue your trail through the school?"

"No," Remus said. "I really wasn't joking about swearing off girls for a while. I don't want to hurt anybody else. Elsa was really nice about it, but somebody else might've been…." He trailed off, wondering if it was arrogant to assume that he might hurt people like that.

"Very noble."

"Not really," he said. "I don't want to give you another excuse to whack me round the head."

Lily let out a soft breath of laughter and then opened her chocolate bar, broke a piece off and handed it to him. "Thanks," he said. She snapped another piece off for herself.

"She really hurt you, didn't she? Olivia?" Lily said, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"What was it that gave me away?"

"There's no need for sarcasm."

"There's every need for sarcasm," he said, and then sighed. He hadn't really had anyone to talk to about it – except for Sirius, Peter and James, who were more interested in calling him names and mocking him than anything else. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course you can."

"I thought – this'll sound really stupid," he said, rolling his eyes at himself. "I think the reason I've made such a mess of things is that I never expected any of this to happen."

"What do you mean?" she said.

"I thought she was – I don't know," he said. "I thought she was it. I don't really know what to do now that I know she isn't."

Lily gave him a sympathetic smile and handed him another, rather larger, chunk of chocolate. "Then you're probably doing the right thing," she said. "Steer clear until you've figured it out."

"That's not the popular opinion."

"Let me guess," she said. "Black wants you to go on some double date with his lunatic girlfriend and one of her lunatic friends, and Potter thinks you should never have told Elsa the truth because at least then you'd have someone to snog."

Remus laughed. "That's about the size of it."

"Boys," Lily said, rolling her eyes. He chose to ignore her and plough on.

"I didn't expect this to be so hard," he said. "I thought once I'd got over the lying awake at night wondering if a girl liked me part or plucking up the courage to ask her out bit, things would be easier."

"I think everybody thinks that," she said. "But it's not. It just gets harder and harder."

"Why do you think no-one told us that?"

"Because then we wouldn't have bothered giving it a go," Lily said. "Not exactly good for the future of our species."

"So things didn't work out with you and – "

"Not exactly," she said. "Maybe we'll just have to be single and miserable together for a while."

Remus let out a soft, yet rather bitter, chuckle. The truth was that he'd never really expected to have these kinds of problems – normal teenage boy problems. He'd thought that the really hard bit would be when he had to tell someone he really cared about what he was, when he'd have to risk their affection just to tell the truth.

He'd never expected not to get that far, not to even have that in his vague future. It was odd, to have things not turn out the way he expected, to be stuck with the normal, heart-wrenching but rather banal, problems of his peers. He supposed he should be grateful for every scrap of normality life threw his way, but it was hard to really feel that, sometimes. Especially when being normal involved having his heart ripped out of his chest and danced on by Olivia and David sodding Reynolds.

"You know what I think?" Lily said. "I think that when you meet the right person, it's not hard at all. I think that's how you know they're the right person."

"That makes sense."

"You know what else I think?" she said, and he shook his head. She snapped off another square of chocolate and popped it in her mouth before handing the bar to him. "Chocolate is the cure for everything," Lily said.

"Except feeling sick," he said. "Chocolate isn't the cure for feeling sick."

Lily raised an eyebrow at him. "You really do have an answer for everything," she said.

"If I did, I wouldn't be in this mess."

"Are you really going to give up on girls?" she said.

"Yep."

"Shame."

"Oh yes," he said. "I'm a real loss to Hogwarts' female population. From now on, it's me and you, single and miserable."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather be dragging someone into a broom cupboard and prising their underwear off them than sitting here with me?"

"Perfectly sure."

Lily sniggered. "So it is true, then?"

"What?"

"That you're pretty nifty with unhooking underwear."

Remus studied the grass, feeling that he was probably approaching crimson and his blushing event horizon. How on earth had she tricked him into admitting _that_?

"I'll take your furious blushing as a yes, then, shall I?" Lily said. Remus raised his eyes to hers and gave her a rather sheepish smile.

"I did cheat, though."

"Cheat?" she said, her eyes wide with curiosity and surprise. "How?"

He leaned forward and peered at her through his hair. "That, Lily Evans, would be telling," he said, and she laughed.

Single and miserable, he thought. Probably wouldn't be that bad. "Is there any more chocolate?" he said.

* * *

**A/N: Righty-ho…. Many thanks to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter. There's a free broom cupboard and a miserable teenage werewolf who's in desperate need of cheering up waiting for anyone who leaves a word or two about this one ; ) .**


	4. Lucidia Jones

**A/N: Just a quick note for anyone who hasn't read The Werewolf Who Stole Christmas – this takes place at the beginning of Remus' seventh year, so he has in fact, given up girls for around 6 months. Also, if anyone wants to know how Remus cheated with Elsa's bra in the last chapter, the explanation's buried somewhere in the middle of Chapter 8 of The Werewolf Who Stole Christmas. Anyway…. **

* * *

Remus staggered out of the broom cupboard and straightened his clothes as best he could. His jumper and shirt presented few problems – he hadn't been able to button the latter, owing to fingers that didn't seem to work anymore, but with his jumper over the top he thought no-one would notice. Re-tying his tie, of course, was a lost cause, so he'd given up and shoved it in the pocket of his robes. His knees felt oddly shaky. He hadn't even known, until now, that knees could shake. He ran a hand through his hair trying to make it look as if he hadn't been up to no good, and then continued over his face, his fingers pausing on his forehead, feeling that his brow was furrowed. Odd, he thought. He didn't feel like he was frowning.

Now he came to think about it, he wasn't sure he could really feel any of his body anymore. He could just feel a series of odd sensations in different places: legs, shaky; stomach, queasy; head, possibly not attached anymore; brain…oh that's definitely disconnected, he thought.

He checked that the corridor was clear – the last thing he needed was one of the other prefects to catch him sneaking out of a broom cupboard with Lucidia Jones – and beckoned her to join him. She looked remarkably composed, given the circumstances, he thought.

He wasn't entirely certain what he was supposed to say. He thought that possibly something in the thank you line might be in order, but his mouth didn't seem to be working, let alone his brain. He settled for a weak smile, and she beamed at him.

"See you on Saturday, then?" she said, pressing herself against him and kissing him enthusiastically before taking his shocked silence for a yes and bouncing away down the hall, her long, white-blonde hair swishing behind her.

He stood in shock for a moment, running a mental inventory of what had just happened. It didn't seem even remotely possible that what he thought had just happened had just happened.

He wasn't the kind of boy who allowed himself to be dragged into broom cupboards and – and – he wasn't even sure he wanted to use the word 'seduced', but he couldn't think of a better one. And it did seem to apply….

Blimey, he thought.

He made his way back to the common room, his legs having apparently been replaced by some jelly-like substance that barely bore his weight, his stomach squirming and his head spinning with newly acquired information and the early prickling of a bruise on the back of his head.

He stumbled up to the boys' bedrooms and right into an animated discussion about Quidditch tactics. Apparently, just because James was the captain of the team it didn't mean that Sirius and Peter were prepared to accept he might know slightly more about the subject than they did. They all took one look at Remus' dishevelled appearance as he leant on the doorframe to steady himself, and began bombarding him with questions about who had attacked him.

He thought, given the evidence, it was a pretty fair conclusion to jump to.

He made it to his bed and flopped down on his back, staring at the canopy and not really listening to the threats of retribution they were making. His stomach was swirling like a turning tide.

"I think I might have just lost my virginity," he said, thinking that if he said it out loud, it might feel a bit more real.

There was a moment of shocked silence.

And then another one.

And then the sound of three boys leaping off a bed, and six feet scrabbling across the floor.

"What?" Peter said, swimming into view, to be joined moments later by James' face, wide-eyed with surprise, and Sirius', grinning, as they all peered at him from above.

"Not to rain on your parade, Moony," Sirius said, "but if you only _think_ you have you probably haven't."

"I was being coy," he said, rolling his eyes. "I have."

"I knew you and Lucidia would hit it off. What was it like?" Sirius asked.

Remus fingered the lump that was forming on the back of his head where he'd hit it on a shelf and toyed with the words 'awkward', 'terrifying' and 'painful'. "Does anyone know a healing spell for concussion?"

Sirius roared with laughter. "That good, eh?" he said. "I knew she was the girl for you."

"I can't believe you – " James started. "You've only been going out for a few days."

"I know," Remus said, squeezing his eyes shut at the thought. He hadn't really meant to…it had just happened. It had been like a chain reaction. First there was kissing, and then some…other stuff, and then more other stuff, and before he'd really had time to think about what was happening he'd hit his head on a shelf and _apparently_ that had knocked the ounce of common sense he normally possessed right out of his brain.

He ran a hand over his forehead and felt that it was still furrowed. He massaged it with his fingertips and wished everything would go away. "I didn't mean to," he said. Even to him it sounded pathetic. "It just kind of happened." Equally pathetic, he thought. His words didn't sound any better outside of his head than in.

"Of course you meant to," Sirius scoffed.

"No I mean – "

"It's hardly the kind of thing you can do unintentionally," Sirius said. His eyes darted from Peter to James and then back again. "Not that either of you would know."

Peter blushed, but James' face soured. It was always a touchy subject. "You know why I haven't – "

"Yes, we all know," Sirius said. "And it's very noble," he said, muttering the words 'but really stupid' under his breath.

"It's not stupid."

"Oh come on," Sirius said. "Just because you've got some daft romantic notion in your head about you and Evans – "

"It's not daft."

" – doesn't mean everyone wants to wait for the supposed love of their life."

"Who says she isn't the love of his life?" James said. Remus wanted to tell him that his indignation on his behalf was completely unnecessary, but the room had started spinning rather violently, and he was rather more worried about the way his head felt too big and was throbbing with a gentle, hypnotic rhythm.

Sirius and James launched into an argument about whether or not Lucidia Jones was the love of his life, while Remus lay on the bed, barely listening and trying to block out their voices. He covered his face with his hands and moaned, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly he could see stars. When he opened them again, the stars were still there. Not a good sign.

"Are you alright, Moony?" Peter said.

"He's fine," Sirius said, taking a brief break from his rant about the stupidity of James' argument.

"I'm not," Remus muttered, not that anyone was listening to him. "I wasn't joking about the concussion," he said a bit louder. The argument continued to rage.

"Just because you don't believe in – " James said.

"What if Evans never succumbs to your charm?" Sirius said. "Are you just going to die a virgin?"

"Is it normal to be seeing stars?" Remus said, raising his voice a little.

"And what if I do?" James said, folding his arms indignantly across his chest. "Wouldn't be that bad."

"Only a virgin would even think that."

"It's none of your business anyway."

"None of my bus – "

"I said," Remus interrupted, "is it normal to be seeing stars?"

"When you've just had sex or when you've got concussion?" Sirius said, peering at him properly for the first time in minutes and looking a little puzzled.

"Either. Both."

"What did you hit your head on?"

Remus fingered the lump on his head, pressing it lightly to see how much it hurt, and then wishing that he hadn't. "A shelf," he said. "And then the floor. And then – I don't know – something else. Door handle, maybe."

Peter put a hand on Remus' forehead. "He's very warm."

"He just spent an hour locked in a broom cupboard with Lucidia Jones," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "Of course he is."

"I think I need to lie down," Remus said. The queasiness was really starting to worry him.

"You are lying down," James said.

"Oh," he said. That wasn't good news. "Then I think I might need to be sick."

"Can you make it to the bathroom?"

He thought about it for a moment. It didn't seem likely. "Only if you can make the room stop spinning."

James rolled his eyes and conjured a bucket, placing it on the floor next to his bed, and Remus glanced at him thankfully. "Do you think they've got any Firewhiskey in the kitchens?" Sirius said.

"I'm not really in the mood for a drink," Remus groaned, pressing his hands over his face and trying desperately not to throw up.

"It's not for you," Sirius sighed. "If you're going to throw up all night, we'll need something to block out the noise. We could nip to the village if they haven't. Up for it, Pete?"

Remus didn't want to sit up and see if Peter agreed or not. He lay with his hands over his face, the room spinning, listening as they grabbed the things they needed and bustled out of the room. He heard the springs on James' bed creak, and knew he'd stayed behind, although whether it was because James thought he needed looking after or he was annoyed with Sirius, Remus couldn't tell.

He could tell one thing, though.

"You think I've been an idiot," he said. He wanted to look at James as he answered, gauge his reaction, but he daren't roll over in case the movement sent him over the edge.

"It's your life."

"You can be honest," Remus said. "If you think I've been a dickhead, you can say so."

In all honesty Remus wasn't even sure if he didn't think he'd been a bit of a dickhead himself. James sniggered. "Alright," he said. "I think you've been a bit of a dickhead. But I don't blame you – she's, you know, and sometimes things do just happen."

"Mmm."

The springs creaked as James shifted. "Maybe Sirius is right," he said, his tone a little resigned. "Maybe Evans won't ever – "

"I'm sure she will," Remus said. It wasn't really in his nature to accept that Sirius was right about anything. "I thought you were getting on better this year?"

"We are," James said. "But…."

He trailed off. James' infatuation with Lily had been the subject of so many late night discussions Remus supposed there wasn't really anything more to say. "So what do you really think of Lucidia?" James asked, a little more humour back in his voice. "_Is_ she the love of your life?"

Remus didn't think he really believed in the idea of the love of his life any more. He'd thought that about Olivia once upon a time, and it hadn't really gotten him anywhere he was in a desperate hurry to go again.

But he did like Lucidia. She was fun to be around, said what she meant and was always happy. He hadn't even had to ask her out – she'd just come up to him in the corridor and said 'I heard that you fancy me.' He'd, of course, desperately pleaded with the ground to open up and devour him, but then she'd said 'I fancy you too. Do you want to go for a walk?' and that had been it. It had been so uncomplicated – she hadn't caused him any sleepless nights, or head-slapping or soul-searching, and she seemed to like him quite a lot. Not to mention that some of the things she did to him when they were alone together felt so good he thought they should probably be illegal…. Actually, now he came to think about it, he wasn't _entirely_ sure a couple of them weren't.

"I like her," he said. "She doesn't play those unfathomable girl games." He wasn't entirely sure he'd said 'unfathomable' correctly. The word felt lumpy in his mouth.

"Girl games?"

"Maybe it's just me," Remus said, "but sometimes when I was talking to Olivia it was like we were talking, but that wasn't all that was going on. It was like we were playing a game of emotional chess at the same time. Only she hadn't told me what the rules were, so I always lost."

"And Lucidia doesn't do that?"

"No."

"Maybe it's because she's – "

"Don't call her a tart," Remus said. "She's just…friendly."

"I was going to say more forward," James said, and only the slight snigger in his voice gave him away.

James was quiet for a long time, and Remus made the most of the opportunity by experimentally running his fingers over his head to see if it really was four times its normal size or if it just felt that way. The only problem was that he couldn't really remember how his head normally felt for comparison.

"Do you feel different?" James asked.

"The room's still spinning."

"No, I meant – " James broke off into a hearty chuckle. "I meant now that you've had sex."

Remus thought about it for a long time. He was feeling a lot of things, but how many were down to the concussion and how many were down to not being a virgin anymore…well, he wasn't really sure.

"I think you'd better ask me in the morning," he said.

James was quiet for a while, and Remus lay and listened to the pounding rhythm of his head. "What do you really think about Evans?" James said. "About me and Evans."

Remus considered the question. He'd suspected for a while that Lily did like James – she just didn't want to admit it. He'd caught her looking at James when she thought no-one was paying attention, and she certainly talked about him, a lot. But he didn't want to give James false hope. After all, he wasn't exactly an expert. He only knew Lucidia fancied _him_ because she'd come out and said so. "I don't know," he said.

"Do you think I should give up and just find someone else?"

"Why are you asking me and not Sirius?"

"Firstly," James said, "because he thinks I should take advantage of my Quidditch captaincy to sleep with anything that moves, and secondly, she likes you."

"You know there's nothing going on," Remus said, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look at James properly, even though it made the room spin faster. "We're just friends. I wouldn't – I would never – "

"I know," James said, waving his protest away. "I meant – because she likes you, you might know how I could get her to like me."

"Oh," Remus said. "Well, I don't really think there's any big secret to it. I didn't _get_ her to like me. We just started talking, and, well, we got on. But I suppose – well it's easier, isn't it, to get to know a girl you don't like like that. Mother Nature's cruellest joke."

James looked utterly dejected for a moment. "I think if she got to know you, she'd really like you," Remus said. "After all, who could resist that famous Potter charm?"

James grinned. "How's your head?"

"Feels about four times its normal size," he said. "How does it look?"

"Normal. Ish."

"Ish?" Remus said, flopping back down on the bed. "That's not good."

Remus spent the next two weeks dodging Sirius' requests for the sordid details of the kind of things he and Lucidia got up to, and getting up to things he didn't really want to tell Sirius about with Lucidia. Things that had been slightly less awkward, slightly less terrifying and not at all painful, and had, in fact, turned out to be a rather pleasant way to spend his free time. Some of the time he even felt like he might know what he was doing. It was almost as if his body knew things that he didn't – at some point it would just take over and render thought unnecessary, which he supposed was probably for the best, since he wasn't really up to thinking most of the time when Lucidia was around.

For two weeks, everything was fine, and then, one evening, she said she wanted to talk. Ordinarily he would have known that that was a warning sign, that 'I think we should talk' was just relationship-speak for 'I'm about to break up with you, brace yourself' – he'd seen Sirius say it to girls enough times to know that. But doing anything with Lucidia – especially what they had just been doing – seemed to turn his brain to mush, rendering coherent thought nothing but a distant, unobtainable goal. So he'd just dumbly nodded.

"Big year this year," she said, buttoning her shirt.

"Hmm."

"I was thinking," she said. She took out her wand and conjured a hairbrush, running it through her hair and setting it all back in place. "We both need to concentrate on school – I mean I'm already falling behind and, well, I was wondering if you didn't think that maybe we should – I should – concentrate on school rather than us."

He was so shocked that even if his brain hadn't been turned to post-sex mush, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to think of anything to say. Given that it had, all he could think was: hadn't they just..? And now she wanted to..?

He was aware that he was staring at her with a rather shocked expression. He purposefully lowered his eyebrows.

"What do you think?" she said. "I mean you wouldn't want me to fail everything, would you?"

"No, of course not," he said.

And so they decided to break up.

Well, she decided. He just nodded.

As he trudged down the corridor in the opposite direction, he wondered what to think. He was annoyed with himself for not putting up more of a fight – had his brain not have been in such a state, he would have come up with arguments, rational, well-reasoned arguments. He wasn't falling behind – in fact, having a broom cupboard and a girl like Lucidia waiting for him had been all the incentive he needed to finish his homework well in advance of any deadline – and he would gladly have helped her if she'd asked. And if she'd wanted more time apart then she could have just asked for that too – he wouldn't have minded.

When he reached Gryffindor Tower, the common room was almost deserted and he plodded up the stairs, hoping that someone would be awake. As he pushed the door open, Peter's snores met him head on, and he looked from bed to bed to find James sleeping peacefully and Sirius' empty. He crawled onto his own bed to wait for him, and eventually fell asleep before Sirius appeared.

The next day he overslept and had to run to Charms, and then never managed to find a quiet moment with his friends to tell them what had happened and ask their advice. Still, he knew that none of them had plans for the evening, and if he could just make it that far there was half a bottle of Firewhiskey left over from the night he'd had concussion somewhere in the room, which would do if none of his friends had anything sympathetic to say.

He was just on his way to make a start on either sympathy or Firewhiskey, thinking that he really didn't care which, when he heard a rather familiar giggle coming from a broom cupboard. It couldn't be.

He edged closer. It did sound familiar.

He hesitated for a moment, and then took out his wand and muttered "_alohomora_". The door opened with an ominous creak.

The light from the corridor flooded in, and two startled, slightly pink faces looked out at him, eyes blinking from beneath distinctly up-to-no-good hair. "What on earth are you doing?" he said.

Then his brain processed the information his eyes were sending. State of undress, pink cheeks, messy hair, giggling. It was pretty obvious, really. Lucidia Jones and Arthur Wainwright, doing anything but concentrating on school work.

Lucidia stepped out of the broom cupboard and fixed him with a rather unapologetic smile. "Hi," she said. She hadn't even bothered to do her shirt up.

Nothing I haven't seen before, he thought bitterly.

Nothing I'm ever likely to see again, he thought, even more bitterly.

"What – the – you – just –"

The sentence he was trying to form never came. He couldn't even remember what it was that he was trying to say. He took a breath and tried to pull himself together. "I thought you said you wanted to concentrate on your school work?" he said.

"I am," she said. "Arthur was helping me with imperturbable charms."

Remus glared at Arthur, who at least had the good grace to stare at the ground and shift from foot to foot with embarrassment. "Oh really?" Remus said. "I must have dozed off when Professor Flitwick was explaining about having to perform them with your trousers round your ankles. Maybe you can discuss it during detention."

"Detention?"

"Yes. For both of you."

"That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?" she said. "This time yesterday _we_ were doing exactly the same thing."

"Firstly," Remus said, "I actually know how to do a good enough imperturbable charm not to get caught, so if you wanted advice from anyone, I would've been a better bet. Secondly, that's exactly my point!" Remus shouted. "_Yesterday_."

"Oh don't tell me you're going to turn into one of those petty, jealous exes, Remus."

"Petty?" Remus said. "Jealous? Do you not think I'm entitled, given the circumstances?"

"No," she said. "You had fun, didn't you?"

"Whah – tch – ugh," he said, giving up when he realised he wasn't actually forming real words. He took a deep breath, finding that most of his ire disappeared as he exhaled, to be replaced by the familiar, sinking feeling of girl-inspired despair. "You didn't have to lie to me," he said. "If you didn't want to be with me anymore, you could have just said."

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings," she said, with a rather defiant shrug.

He let out a rather hollow chuckle. Oh well done, he thought. This hasn't hurt _at all_.

"Thanks," he said. "That was very thoughtful."

Before either of them could say anything else, Remus turned and walked away as quickly as he could without surrendering what was left of his dignity. He rounded the corner and dashed right into Lily. "I heard shouting," she said. "Is everything alright?"

"No," he said, wondering if he'd ever sounded more petulant.

"What?" she said. "What is it?"

Remus glanced reluctantly up and down the corridor. It hardly seemed the appropriate place. He took her elbow and steered her up the flight of stairs to the Prefect's Bathroom, which was the nearest place he could think of where they could talk without being overheard.

He muttered the password, and bolted the door behind them. "Seriously, Lily," he said, remembering the last time they'd been here. "What is it with girls?"

He summoned a couple of towels and indicated that she should sit. "Going to be a long one, is it?" she said. He raised an eyebrow at her. "What's happened, then?" she said, sitting down and wrapping her arms around her knees. He sank down beside her.

"I just caught Lucidia in a broom cupboard with Arthur Wainwright," he said.

"Arthur Wainwright? Isn't he supposed to be with – " Lily trailed off at the look he was giving her. "I suppose that's not the point you were trying to make, is it? Didn't you only split up yesterday?"

"Yes," he said. "That's the point I was trying to make. She _said_ she wanted to concentrate on school."

"Oh," Lily said. She frowned slightly, and he could tell she was trying to find something positive to say. "Well, I suppose at least you found out what she was really like before things went too far. It's not like you slept with her or anything."

Remus shifted on his towel and avoided Lily's eyes, trying his very best not to look guilty, and, he suspected, failing abysmally. "Tell me you didn't sleep with Lucidia Jones," she said, rolling her eyes at him.

"I'd love to," he said, letting out a soft snort of rather embarrassed laughter. "But I can't."

"You'd only been together two weeks!"

"I know," he said, deciding not to tell her that they'd been together a while shorter than that when they'd first done it.

Lily's eyes swept over him appraisingly, dancing with amusement. "You big tart," she said.

"I'm not!" he said, his indignation, he suspected, ruined by the effort it was taking not to laugh at Lily calling him a tart.

"At least tell me you were careful," she said.

"Not especially," he said. "Whacked my head on something – I've still got the bruise. Look," he said tilting his head down and indicating the still raised spot on the back of his head.

"I meant – "

"I know what you meant," Remus said, raising an eyebrow at her. "And, yes, I was. I'm not _that_ stupid."

"I suppose Potter and Black put you up to it?"

"Bla – I mean, Sirius maybe," Remus said. "But James thinks I've behaved like a dickhead."

He rolled his eyes at himself, thinking that, in retrospect, James was probably right. Lily turned towards him with a look of utmost surprise. "Really?" she said. "Why does he think that?"

"Well because – " Remus paused, knowing that if James found out what he was about to tell Lily, a lump on the back of his head would be the least of his worries. "James has quite old-fashioned views," Remus said. "I think he's a bit disappointed in me, to be honest."

"Potter hasn't – I mean – " she stuttered. He'd never seen Lily rattled before. "Him and that girl – the Ravenclaw chaser – they always seemed pretty cosy."

"They're just friends," he said. "All they ever talk about is Quidditch."

"Are you making this up?"

"No," Remus said.

Lily gazed at him in amazement for a moment. "Told you he's no-where near as bad as you think he is," Remus said, smirking slightly.

"I'm just coming to terms with the fact that you're a slut," she said. "Don't try and pull off smug at the same time."

"I'm not a slut."

Lily raised her eyebrows at him in challenge. "Where'd you do it, then?" she said.

"What?"

"If you're not a slut, you'll have done it somewhere not slutty," she said. Remus shifted uncomfortably on the floor. "Where was it, then?" she said. "In the bushes on the edge of the Forbidden Forrest?" Remus avoided her eyes. "Room of Requirement?" He studied the marble. "Don't tell me you did it in a broom cupboard?" Remus winced and hid behind his hands in shame. When he peered out from between his fingers Lily rolled her eyes at him, but she was grinning. "So that makes you a cliché as well as a slut."

"That's me," he said, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm a big, smug, slutty cliché."

"At least we agree on something."

Remus sighed. "I really liked her," he said. "I wasn't just – "

"I know."

"So you're not going to hit me again?"

Lily sniggered. "No," she said. "There's no point if you've already got a bruise, anyway."

"Suppose," he said. "I knew giving up on swearing off girls was a mistake."

"Nonsense," Lily said. "All you need is a nice, sensible girlfriend."

"Yeah well, I thought I had one," he said. "She dumped me for David Reynolds, remember?"

"You're not still upset about that?"

"Only a little bit," he said. "He's just got such an oddly-shaped head."

Lily gazed across the room at the wall for a moment, a thoughtful frown on her brow. "You know you're right," she said. "I'd never thought about it before, but he does."

Remus leant back on his hands and stretched his legs out in front of him, remembering what James had said about Lily and wondering if this might not be a good opportunity to sound Lily out. They hadn't had much of a chance to talk since the start of term, what with him spending most of his free-time with Lucidia, and he reasoned that just because he wasn't having any luck with girls, it didn't mean he wanted James to be miserable too. "What about you?" he said.

"Oh I think my head is perfectly normal-shaped," she said. "Even verging on the boring."

"No I meant about swearing off boys. Are you, you know, interested in anybody?"

Lily smiled coyly. "Maybe."

"Are you going to Hogsmeade with him this weekend?"

"No," she said. "He asked me but – "

She paused and toyed with the edge of the towel she was sitting on, flipping it over and then back again and running her fingers along the trim. "I just – I've spent so long saying no to him, I – I don't really know how to say yes."

"Is it James?"

Lily's blush was the only answer he needed. "I _knew_ you liked him," he said between chuckles.

"Really, Remus," she said. "Being smug doesn't suit you."

"Yes it does. Don't change the subject."

Lily offered him a grin, and then bit her lip in thought, staring fixedly at the trim on her towel. "It's just – I don't want to make a big thing of it – and I think he will – and I don't even know if I really like him yet."

"But you think you do?"

"We had a conversation at the start of term," she said, "about all this head boy and girl stuff, and he was taking it really seriously, like it really meant something to him. And he made me laugh. I thought he was sweet. I mean I always thought he was good looking I just never thought…." She trailed off into a shrug.

"I think if you got to know him, you'd really like him," he said. "You've got a lot in common."

"Like what?"

"Well you both think I've behaved like a dickhead," he said, "maybe you could start with that."

"I don't think you've behaved like a dickhead," she said. "I think you've behaved like a boy."

"Since when are they two different things?"

Lily laughed and it echoed off the marble. "I can't believe I'm asking relationship advice from someone who lost their virginity in a broom cupboard with Lucidia Jones," she said. "You did lose – I mean you hadn't before – " Remus cut her off with a raise of his eyebrow.

"I'd have told you."

"Would you?"

Remus shrugged. "I always seem to end up telling you everything else. About girls, anyway," he added, with a frown.

"Why do you think that is?"

"Probably because you're the only one who doesn't laugh in my face or ask for sordid details."

"You need some new friends."

"No I don't," he said, meeting her eye and smiling. "I'm perfectly happy with the ones I've got. And if you're going to go out with James, you'd better get used to having us around."

Lily smiled at him a little shyly. "Since you're being all sage today," she said, "do you want to have a punt at telling me what I should do?"

"If I know James," Remus said, tilting his chin down and peering at her through his hair, "and I think I do, he'll ask you again before Saturday. Why don't you just say yes?"

"But that's the thing," she said. "Because he's asked me so often it just feels like – I don't know – like I've got all the cards."

"Hmm," Remus said. He knew how she felt. It was how he'd felt with Susan Dixon. Well, not exactly, but similar. Knowing how someone felt about you in advance put you on an uneven footing, somehow.

"I suppose I just – I don't want to say yes and get his hopes up when I'm not really sure how I feel," she said quickly.

Remus thought about it for a moment, and realised something that had probably been staring him in the face all along. "Why don't you come with me?" he said.

"Go with you?"

"Yes," he said.

"Are you – " Lily paused, looking utterly confused for a moment. "Are you asking me out?"

"No," Remus said, rolling his eyes at her. "Of course not. If I was asking you out I'd be red and stammering and barely able to string a sentence together. I was supposed to be going with Lucidia but I've just seen some fairly compelling evidence that that's off. I thought maybe I could find out where James is going with Sirius and Peter, and then we'll run into them accidentally on purpose. Maybe it'll be less weird if it's all of us and it's not all set up formally."

"So now you want me to spend the day with Black and Pettigrew as well?" she said, with a look of abject horror.

"No," he said, with a chuckle. "If you and James are getting along, I'll distract them and keep them occupied, and you two can just, you know, continue getting along in peace."

"How are you going to distract them?"

"Have you met Sirius and Peter?" Remus said. "I could probably do it with something shiny and a bit of string."

Lily eyed him warily for a moment. "That's a very devious plan," she said. "I'm seeing a whole new side of you today."

"So what do you think?" he asked.

Lily bit her lip in thought. "I think I like it," she said, grinning.

Remus left the Prefect's Bathroom feeling a mixture of better about himself than he had done in ages and utterly wretched. As he walked back to Gryffindor Tower, he alternated between the two, depending on what he was thinking. On the one hand he had a fiendish plot to make James deliriously happy, and on the other, there were the images of Lucidia and Arthur Wainwright doing something he didn't want to think about that was making both of _them_ deliriously happy.

He pushed open the door to their room and found his friends arguing over something that sounded utterly inconsequential. Sirius looked up. "What have you been up to?" he said. He'd been asking him that a lot, recently. Remus supposed it was because recently his answers had been a little more interesting than 'I was in the library'.

"Seeing something I really didn't want to see and having my heart ripped out _again_," Remus said. "I might not even bother putting it back in this time. I might just wait until the next girl comes along and hand it to her so she can throw it on the floor and dance on it straight away."

"What?" Sirius said, his eyebrows disappearing behind his hair in surprise. Clearly not the answer he'd been expecting.

Remus threw himself on his bed. "Lucidia, Arthur Wainwright, broom cupboard, don't want to talk about it."

"Can we call her a tart, now?" Sirius said.

"No."

Sirius sighed. "Please tell me you're not going to make us listen to Joni sodding Mitchell for the next three months."

"I thought I'd sulk in silence this time," Remus said, "you know, for a change. You don't know where that Firewhiskey is, do you?"

Sirius reached into his bedside cabinet and tossed the bottle onto Remus' bed. "We are branching out," he said. Remus reached for it and unscrewed the cap, pouring himself a hefty measure and drinking it in one. His eyes widened entirely of their own accord and he shook his head and fought the urge to cough.

"Anyway," he said, considering his glass for a second and then deciding to abandon it altogether and just drink from the bottle, "I've not had an entirely wasted evening. James? The next time you see Lily, you might want to tell her you think I'm a dickhead."

"What?"

"Just try it. And try and be funny – but not too much. And call her Lily, not Evans."

Remus swallowed another large mouthful of Firewhiskey, puffing his cheeks out as it scorched his throat. Somewhere deep down he knew this wasn't a good idea. Somewhere else, however, had decided it didn't care, and apparently it was in charge.

"Moony? Are _you_ giving _me_ advice on girls?" James said.

"It's about time someone did," Sirius scoffed.

"Bugger off."

"I assure you I'm more than qualified," Remus said. He took another large swig of Firewhiskey, and then curled up in a ball on his side, clutching the bottle to his chest. "After all," he muttered to himself, "all you really need to do is watch what I do, and then do the exact bleeding opposite."

* * *

**A/N: Righty. Customary but heart-felt thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and for anyone who reviews this one, we've gota depressed, slightly tipsy werewolf who's evidently quite easy to take advantage of. Any takers? ; ) **


	5. The Yoko Factor

"Do I look alright?"

Remus rolled his eyes. They'd been standing outside The Three Broomsticks for nearly twenty minutes, and hadn't gotten any closer to the door and actually going inside to meet James, Sirius and Peter. He wondered if, at some point in the future, archaeologists would find them here, perfectly preserved, hovering on the threshold of the pub, having died where they stood before Lily plucked up the courage to go inside.

He pulled his jumper tighter to him and rubbed at his arms against the unexpectedly stiff breeze, but his churlishness disappeared when he met Lily's eye and registered the rather uncharacteristic nervousness there. He let out a long sigh to try and hide his smirk. "Yes," he said sincerely, leaning forward a little, "and for the record, that's not a question you ever need to ask because you always look lovely." Lily smiled, and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Can we go inside now?"

Lily ran a hand over the top of her skirt. "Are you sure I don't look like I've made too much effort?"

"Yes," Remus said, even though he had no idea whatsoever what making _too much_ effort looked like. He frowned in confusion. She cocked her head and eyed him with suspicion.

"You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" she said.

"No."

She slapped him on the arm with the back of her hand. "Then why did you agree with me?"

"Because I'm cold and I want to go inside," he said, earning himself a playful glare. "Honestly, Lily, I'm not sure you _can_ make too much effort, and if you did, we're boys. We won't notice."

She seemed a little mollified – she'd stopped glaring, anyway, but the door remained a very long way away, and they were still on entirely the wrong side of it. "I just don't want him to think I've got dressed up or anything," she said.

"Why not?" Remus asked.

"Because I don't want him to think I've done it for him."

"But you have," he said uncertainly, "haven't you?"

"Yes, but I don't want him to think that I have."

"Oh. Right."

Remus wasn't quite sure he understood, but arguing or asking for further clarification would only mean he didn't get to go inside and his feet were going numb. "Are you ready?" he said. Lily thought about it for a moment.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think I can do this."

"Yes you can."

"What if he knows – what if he guesses that I like him?"

"He won't," Remus said, trying to be reassuring.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he's James. Paying attention isn't exactly his strong suit."

Lily chuckled and ran a hand through her hair. "Besides," Remus said, "isn't it kind of the point that he knows you like him?" He couldn't really see how they were going to make any progress otherwise. Lily let out a frustrated huff.

"No," she said. "Not – you know – straight away."

"Right," Remus said, utterly baffled.

And he thought _he_ liked to over-complicate things….

"Ok," she said, taking a deep breath. "I think I'm ready. Lead on." Remus unintentionally let out a soft breath of laughter. Anyone would think she was about to go into battle. "Something funny, Remus?" she said, raising an eyebrow at him in challenge and resting her hands on her hips.

"I was just thinking that at least we've got one thing sorted," Remus said.

"What?"

"You do like him. A lot."

"How on earth..?"

"Well if you didn't, we wouldn't have spent twenty minutes freezing out here while you panicked, would we?"

Lily sniggered. "Suppose not," she said. She drew herself up to her full height and took a deep breath. "All right. Let's go in."

Remus reached for the door, but Lily grabbed his arm and stopped him. "What am I supposed to say again?"

"Let's start with hello, shall we?" Remus said, desperately suppressing a laugh. "See where that takes us."

Before Lily had chance to protest, Remus opened the door and shoved her through it.

The Three Broomsticks was heaving with Hogwarts students, but Remus spied his fellow Marauders straight away. They'd procured a large table near the window, and were huddled together in deep conversation over a sheet of parchment. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Lily said. "They're obviously busy. Why don't we just sit on our own?"

"There aren't any free seats."

"We could wait – "

"Everything will be fine," Remus said, rubbing his hands together to try and get some feeling back into his chilled fingers. "Why don't you go and get us some drinks and I'll let them know we'll be joining them?"

Lily didn't look convinced that it was a good idea, but began to weave her way through the crowd towards the bar anyway. Remus strode towards his friends, who were still huddled at their table, oblivious. "Plotting something?" he said, smiling as they all looked up, their expressions a study of surprise, guilt and false innocence.

"You know us," James said, tapping the parchment on the table with his wand and rendering it utterly blank. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Remus shot them all a disbelieving smile. "Lily's just getting us some drinks, and then we thought we'd join you," he said.

"Lily?" James said, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes."

"Joining us?"

"Yes."

"For a drink?"

"Yes."

James swallowed. His expression would have been better reserved for the kind of quiet drink that involved serving up his own blood to an Acromantula.

Sirius scowled. "What are you doing bringing Lily here?" he said.

"We fancied a drink. Anyway, why wouldn't I bring Lily here?"

"Because," Sirius said, waving a hand over the parchment on the table, "she's Yoko bloody Ono."

"What?" Remus said.

"If we're The Beatles, then she's Yoko, and no good will come of this."

"We're not The Beatles," Remus said. No-one listened.

"Which one of us is Ringo?" Peter asked.

"You," Sirius said without hesitation.

Peter glowered.

Remus sighed. "We're not The Beatles, and she's not – " he started.

"She is."

"She's not."

"Yeah," James said, morosely, "at least one of The Beatles actually got to go out with Yoko Ono."

Remus let out another, slightly more amused, sigh. The best laid plans of mice and werewolves, he thought….

"What is it you think she's going to do, anyway?" Remus said, turning to Sirius.

"Nothing good," Sirius said.

"With her being a prefect and everything…." Peter added. Remus eyed them suspiciously.

"I thought you said you weren't plotting anything?"

"Since when do we tell the truth when you ask us that?" Sirius said, grinning. "I'm just not sure having a prefect around when we're at such a sensitive stage is a good idea."

Remus rolled his eyes. He didn't even know why he bothered feigning disappointment or surprise. It wasn't as if anyone took any notice. "I'm a prefect too," he said.

"Yeah, but – "

Peter stopped, having evidently thought better of what he was about to say. Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "But what?" he said slowly. Peter suddenly seemed fascinated by something outside the window. "But what?" Remus said more firmly. Peter's ears went red.

"Well you're not a prefect prefect," he mumbled, "are you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well she's a prefect prefect and you're, well – " Peter looked to James and Sirius across the table for assistance, and when none was forthcoming, he continued reluctantly, " – our kind of prefect."

Remus glowered, even though it wasn't really any great shock to him that his friends didn't have the same respect for him as they did for Lily. It wasn't as if they'd ever listened to a single word of caution or rebuke, or been remotely scared of him catching them doing something they shouldn't. In fact, they often treated the whole thing like one big joke or some kind of game.

"Thanks, Ringo," Remus said, suddenly feeling rather bitter about it. Peter shrank visibly, and looked rather sullen for a moment.

"Anyway," Sirius said, with rather uncharacteristic tact, "it's bad enough trying to do stuff with one prefect sat there, let alone two. You should just sit in the corner and compare library books, or whatever the hell it is you do together and leave us to it."

Remus turned to the one member of the group who'd been markedly absent from the discussion. "James?" he said, meeting his eye. "If you'd rather sit here and plot something, then we'll just stay for one and then go to Honeydukes or – "

"No!" James said quickly. He shot a glance at Sirius. "Sorry," he said, looking rather pained, "but it's Lily, volunteering to spend time in my company. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

Sirius rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded very much like 'Yoko bloody Ono' and 'the beginning of the end'. James ignored him, fixing Remus instead with a rather anguished look. "I just – I mean what am I supposed to – look at my clothes. I look ridiculous."

Remus eyed James' perfectly ordinary-looking navy jumper with confusion, wondering if sartorial anxiety was catching. Well at least now they've got two things in common, he thought, that and the fact they both think I'm a dickhead for sleeping with Lucidia Jones.

"You look fine," he said. "Don't panic."

"Don't panic?" James said. "You, king of the panickers, are telling _me_ not to panic?"

"Yes," Remus said, raising his eyebrow at James. "That's how dire the situation is."

James' jaw tensed as if he was going to argue, but he couldn't seem to think of anything to say. "Now listen," Remus said. "I've got it all in hand."

Remus leant on the table, trying to give himself the air of authority he'd apparently been lacking for the last two years. "You," he said, pointing at Peter, "swap seats with James so he can sit next to Lily." Peter scrambled to his feet and gladly obliged, sliding into James' vacated seat on the bench next to Sirius, who looked distinctly put out. James slid onto the bench opposite, still frantically trying to do something Remus couldn't quite work out with his hair. "You," he said, pointing at Sirius, "be nice."

"I'm always nice."

"And stop going on about us being The Beatles."

Sirius folded his arms across his chest and let out a long breath, which was as close to a promise of good behaviour as Remus had ever managed to get.

"And you," he said, pointing at James, "try and act natural. And stop doing that thing with your hair."

James opened his mouth to protest but stopped as Lily approached, clutching the foaming tankards of Butterbeer. "Hello," she said to the table, looking remarkably composed, Remus thought, given the display he'd seen moments earlier.

James stood up too quickly and banged his knee on the table. "Hello," he said, his voice a little high-pitched as his face contorted in an effort to hide the pain he was clearly in.

Lily set the drinks on the table, and Remus smiled at her, gesturing for her to slide in next to James. She obliged, shooting him a look that was either gratitude or utter hatred, he couldn't quite work it out. He slid in next to her, thinking that physically keeping James and Lily close to each other was probably the best idea since they'd both apparently decided to abandon their usual cool confidence in favour of something altogether more skittish. Resisting the urge to laugh at the idea that James Potter, Gryffindor Quidditch hero, and Lily Evans, unflappable Head Girl, were just as big romantic scardy cats as he was, he pulled his tankard towards him. "Thanks," he said.

"Not very chivalrous of you, Moony, letting Lily buy the drinks," James said.

"It's not 1895," Remus said, rolling his eyes.

"Anyway," Lily said, "my dad always says you should offer to get the first round in because as people get more drunk they want more expensive things, and this way, you've got drinks in hand."

"Planning on getting me drunk and taking advantage of me, Evans?" James said.

"If you can get drunk on Butterbeer, _Potter_," Lily said, "you're evidently far too immature for me to bother taking advantage of."

Remus closed his eyes in horror at the turn things had taken, but when he opened them again, James and Lily were grinning at each other. Promising, he thought.

The door opened behind them, and Remus glanced up to find himself looking at the giggling, intertwined bodies of Lucidia Jones and Arthur Wainwright. They both froze as he caught their eye, and then glowered. Remus looked back at his friends, finding that everyone at the table was staring at him and stifling a giggle with various degrees of success.

He shot another glance at the door to see Arthur and Lucidia squeezing their way through the crowd to the bar and sank a little lower in his seat, damning his natural curiosity and wishing he hadn't looked up.

"A toast," Sirius said, raising his tankard and grinning. "Here's to Moony and his disastrous love-life."

Peter and James lifted their tankards obligingly, and they clinked and raised them to their lips. "Well," Remus said, "I _was_ wondering what to do with the rest of my afternoon, and it appears a solution has just presented itself. I'll sit here and get glared at, and you can all make fun of me."

"It's your own fault," Lily said. "This is what happens when you sleep with tarts."

James, Peter and Sirius spluttered into their Butterbeer. Sirius recovered first, while James looked utterly mortified and wiped the foam off his glasses as surreptitiously as he could on his sleeve, and Peter made a vague choking noise. "How come she gets to call her a tart and we don't?" Sirius said indignantly as he patted Peter on the back and Peter's face went puce.

"Firstly, because she's a girl," Remus said. "Secondly, and more importantly, I'm not about to argue with her because she hits harder than any of you, and as you should all know by now, when it comes to physical violence, I'm an abject coward."

James gave up on trying to surreptitiously wipe his glasses, and tapped them lightly with his wand to clean them properly. "Did you really make them do that detention?" he said.

Remus cleared his throat, his eyes darting to the bar where Lucidia and Arthur were standing, still eying him with quite an impressive amount of contempt. "I assume that's why they're glaring at me," he said.

"You've got some balls," Sirius said, laughing. "I'll give you that."

"I think you'll find what I've actually got is a petty streak," Remus said, sipping his drink. "Which is why you should tell me what you're plotting and then try and persuade me to go easy on you."

"Try and persuade you?" Sirius said. "What do you suggest we try? Lucidia Jones had – " Sirius stopped himself, cast Lily a furtive glance and furrowed his brow, evidently trying to think of a less crass way to say whatever it was that he had been about to, " – done things to you any normal man would find very persuasive, and you still put her in detention."

Remus was caught between the desire to laugh and blushing furiously, and in the end did a little of both. Lily shifted beside him, distracting him from the study of the tabletop he had been making to accompany his blushing and nervous laughter. "How can you tell they're plotting something?" she said.

"They're awake."

Lily laughed. "Go on," she said, turning back to James, "tell us what it is."

James eyed Sirius and Peter cautiously, evidently torn between the appealing look Lily was giving him and the don't-you-dare one emanating from the other side of the table. James sucked a breath in through his teeth. "I can't," he said, with a reluctant wince.

"Well at least tell me when you're plotting this big mystery prank for," she said.

"There's a chance I might be busy on Halloween," he said.

"That's alright, then."

"What?"

"Oh well you can't do anything then, can you?" she said. "We've got to do that thing for Dumbledore."

"See?" Sirius said. "Yoko."

Remus sighed. "For the last time," he said, "we're not the bloody Beatles."

"What are you talking about?" Lily said, her gaze flickering between him and Sirius.

"Sirius thinks we're like The Beatles," Remus said. "Because there's four of us. Or something."

"Oh?" she said, raising her eyebrow at him and evidently finding the whole thing achingly amusing. "And which one are you?"

Remus frowned in thought. It wasn't something he'd given much – or in fact any – consideration to. "Well," he said, slowly, as his place in things started to gradually dawn on him, "if Peter's Ringo and James is, naturally, John Lennon, that makes Sirius Paul McCartney, and I suppose I get stuck with George Harrison."

"Oh well he's the coolest," Lily said.

"Is he?" Remus said.

"You think George Harrison's cooler than John Lennon?" James said, eyebrows high behind his fringe. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Remus rolled his eyes, thinking that James was taking it a bit too personally, given that it was nonsense.

"He wrote Here Comes The Sun," Lily said. "And that's my favourite."

"Here Comes The Sun?" James said, with a mixture of awe and disdain. "That's your favourite Beatles song?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"What?"

"Nothing, just – odd choice."

Lily raised her eyebrow at James. "Why? What's yours?"

"Eight Days A Week," James said, defensively. For some reason, Lily seemed to find that even more amusing than the idea of the four of them being even remotely connected to the word fab.

"And let me guess," Lily said, smiling knowingly. "Peter likes Do You Want To Know A Secret? Sirius likes Please Please Me and Remus, well, he probably likes one of the depressing ones – Eleanor Rigby or something."

"Dear Prudence," Remus supplied, taking a sip of his Butterbeer. Lily laughed.

"Of course. I should have known."

James leaned back against the window, seeming fairly impressed with Lily's deductive powers. "You seem to think you know us pretty well, Evans," he said.

"Well enough to know you're not as cool as The Beatles."

"I think I see us as more Rolling Stones-y, anyway," James said.

"Really?" Lily said. "Personally I was thinking something more along the lines of Showaddywaddy."

Remus laughed, as much at the affronted look on James and Sirius' faces as at Lily's joke. Sirius folded his arms across his chest and fixed his eyes on James'. "I don't like her," he said petulantly. "Make Remus take her away."

Much to Remus' surprise, Lily laughed. Sirius looked surprised for a moment, and then his expression softened, and he uncrossed his arms and smiled, as if he'd been joking all along. Remus was fairly sure he hadn't been, but Lily's reaction had impressed him enough that he was willing to pretend.

They chatted for a while about the differences between Muggle and wizarding music, their favourite bands and songs, and then moved on to talking about school and what they planned to do afterwards. James had managed, so far, at least, not to make a fool of himself or say anything too obnoxious (although there had been a dicey moment when the subject of Quidditch came up – Sirius had kicked James under the table when his ego started to take control of his mouth, by-passing his brain altogether, and James had, quite impressively, managed to turn his 'ow' into a cough). Peter seemed to take Sirius' cue and make an effort not to make Lily feel like an outsider, and, all in all, Remus thought things were going quite well.

So well, in fact, that he thought perhaps a little distraction might be needed.

He searched the interior of the pub for something suitable. He smirked to himself as his eyes came to rest upon someone who provided the perfect opportunity. "Oh look," he said, "it's Madam Rosmerta."

Sirius' eyes snapped up immediately. "Where?"

"Just over there," Remus said, indicating where she was standing with his newly emptied tankard. "Don't look – she's looking."

Sirius grinned. "Back in a minute," he said, getting to his feet and vaulting over the back of the bench. Remus sniggered. He hadn't quite expected it to be _that_ easy.

"Right, well," Remus said as he stood. "I'll get some more drinks, shall I, before he gets us all kicked out? Give me a hand, Peter?"

Remus and Peter leant on the bar, watching James and Lily. They'd been watching for about ten minutes, and both Lily and James seemed utterly oblivious to their absence. Sirius was still flirting outrageously with Madam Rosmerta, and although watching him make a fool of himself had been amusing at first, after a while they'd decided that they just couldn't watch. It was far too painful.

"You set this all up, didn't you?" Peter said. Remus tried not to smile and give himself away, and then gave up.

"How do you think it's going?" he asked.

"Dunno," Peter said, shrugging. "They haven't hexed each other, and they seem pretty cosy."

Remus considered that for a moment. They were sitting with their heads pretty close together, and Lily hadn't taken advantage of his absence to move further along the bench and away from James. He didn't consider himself an expert – not by any stretch of the imagination – but had he have been in James' position, he thought he'd probably think that things were going all right.

He was a little surprised with his match-making skill, but he supposed it made sense. It was a fundamental impossibility that he could be as bad with other people's love-lives as he was with his own. He caught Lucidia's eye unintentionally, and shuddered as the image of her and Arthur Wainwright framed by the broom cupboard doorway flooded back into his mind.

"Do you really think I'm Ringo?" Peter said.

"What?"

Remus looked up, a little startled. "Just – what Sirius said before. Do you really think I'm Ringo?"

"Erm – " Remus said. Before he could think of a convincing denial, Peter stepped in again.

"It's true, isn't it?" Peter said. "James and Sirius come up with all the brilliant ideas, and you're cool in your own way, and I'm just the crap one who happens to be there."

"No-one thinks that."

"Yes they do."

"No – look, people make fun of Ringo because he's not as – " Remus struggled to find the right word, " – showy as the others, but he's still important," he said. "I don't think he's crap at all. I think he's a really good drummer."

Peter smiled briefly. "Yeah but you like Joni Mitchell," he said glumly. Remus decided to change tack.

"It's a stupid comparison anyway," he said. "I mean have you _heard_ James sing? Padfoot growls more tunefully."

Peter seemed a little more cheerful until Sirius appeared and slapped him on the back.

"Are you two still waiting?" Sirius said.

"No," Remus said, gesturing to the foaming tankards in front of them. "Just thought we'd give them a moment alone," he added, nodding towards Lily and James. "Did Madam Rosmerta succumb to your charms?"

"I think she's coming round to the idea," Sirius said.

"Really?" Remus said, raising an eyebrow at him doubtfully.

"Definitely," he said. "She was far more friendly than last time."

"Last time she chased you out with a broom."

"Exactly," Sirius said. "This time there were no household implements involved in her rejection. She's warming to me."

"I see."

Remus hid his grin behind his tankard and took a sip of his Butterbeer, desperately trying not to choke as he stifled a laugh. "Do you really think he's getting somewhere?" Sirius said, jerking his head in James' direction.

"You're supposed to be the expert," Remus said. "What's it look like to you?"

They all lifted their gaze to the table at the window and took in the scene. Lily and James seemed completely oblivious to anything but each other. "Looks like Prongs is actually getting the hang of not making a fool of himself in front of Lily," Sirius said.

"Thanks to you kicking him under the table at the opportune moment," Remus said.

"Oh you noticed that, did you?" Sirius said. "Do you think she did?"

Remus shook his head. "She's still smiling at him, anyway," Sirius said. "And playing with her hair. Good sign, normally."

Remus took a sip of his drink. "What was your problem earlier?" he said. "All that guff about Yoko Ono."

"It's not guff," Sirius said. "The Beatles were an unstoppable force, and then she comes along and convinces Lennon that what he really wants to do is abandon his mates and record some really dreadful solo material and take to bed in some kind of protest."

"I'd have thought you were all in favour of bed-ins," Remus said.

"Well normally," Sirius said, grinning.

"You haven't minded any of the other girls he's been out with. Or any of the girls I've been out with."

Remus was about to add that he hadn't minded about any of the girls Peter had been out with either, but then he remembered that the only relationship with a girl Peter had had was during the summer holidays and Sirius had been pretty certain he'd made the whole thing up. Not the best time to open that can of worms again.

"That's different," Sirius said.

"Why?"

"Because he's deadly serious about Lily," Sirius said. "It's not like me or you shagging some girl for two weeks – "

"Please don't put me in the same bracket as you," Remus said.

"Sorry, mate, but I think you left your right to claim moral superiority in the broom cupboard with your virginity."

"Do you want to say that a bit louder?" Remus said, horrified. "I'm not sure those Hufflepuff third years in the corner quite heard you."

"I said," Sirius shouted, "sorry mate, but I think – "

Remus elbowed Sirius in the ribs and he stopped shouting and started laughing. "You want him to be happy, though, don't you?" Remus said.

"Of course I do. I just – well she won't want me – us – hanging around all the time, will she?"

Sirius' quick correction wasn't lost on Remus. He smiled to himself. He'd suspected that that was what it was. James going out a couple of times with some girl he wasn't really interested in wasn't going to get in the way – James getting to go out with Lily was an entirely different prospect. He supposed Sirius didn't want to be replaced.

"Well maybe," Remus said, "_we_'ll just have to make an effort to be nice to Lily, and then she won't mind having _us_ around."

"But she doesn't mind having you around," Sirius said, looking utterly perplexed for a moment, "it's me she really – "

Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh," Sirius said, smirking sheepishly. "I suppose," he said. "And they do look pretty sweet together."

Sirius and Peter's gaze drifted back over to the table, and Remus glanced over and then quickly back at the bar again. "It also looks like they just noticed us all staring at them," he said.

"Yeah," Sirius said, grimacing. "Oops."

They all looked at each other, making it even more obvious that they'd been watching. Remus smiled at them both and gestured to the drinks in front of him. "Come on, then," he said, "let's go and join them before he makes a hash of it."

Sirius picked up two of the tankards and let out a long sigh. "It's the beginning of the end, boys," he said. "Mark my words."

That night, Remus found Lily in the common room. She was lounging on the sofa near the fire, a rather dreamy expression on her face. "Hey," he said, nudging her foot lightly with his to attract her attention. She looked up and smiled, and he sank down next to her. "Do I even need to ask what you're thinking about?"

James and Lily had drifted away from the rest of them on their way back to the castle, walking several paces in front. He'd watched as they'd walked, chatting and laughing, and occasionally bumping into each other.

Lily grinned. "Where are they, anyway?" she said, sitting up straighter and looking around the room.

"If you can't see what they're up to," he said, "I've found it's best not to ask."

"Oh," she said, laughing. She slid back down on the sofa.

"Did you have fun today?" he asked.

"Hmm."

"Good."

"How about you?" she said. "It can't have been much fun playing gooseberry."

"Given my knack with relationships," he said, "I actually think playing gooseberry is the best thing for me."

"Are you swearing off girls again?"

Remus raised his eyebrows and glanced up at the ceiling. "I'm definitely thinking about it," he said. He offered her a faint smile as he met her eye. "Do you really think George Harrison's the coolest Beatle?"

Lily looked perplexed for a moment by his apparent sudden change of conversational direction. "Yes," she said, brow furrowed with both amusement and confusion.

Remus smiled and rested his head on the back of the sofa. "Do you think I'm the coolest Marauder, then?" he said.

Lily turned towards him, resting her knees on the edge of the sofa seat and smiling at him as she realised what he was getting at. "I thought you thought the whole Beatles comparison was nonsense?"

"I do," he said. "But if you really think George Harrison's the coolest Beatle, there may be hope for me yet."

"Hope?"

"Yes," he said. Lily eyed him for a moment, biting her lip as she tried to resist a grin. She raised her eyebrows at him to indicate that he should carry on. "Well," he said, studying his hands in his lap, "Sirius is the good looking one, and James is the genius – it'd just be nice if I was – I don't know – the cool one, not the quiet one. Or the quiet one some people secretly think is the coolest."

"And by '_people_', you mean _girls_," she said, rolling her eyes at him.

"Not necessarily," he said, eyes wide with mock outrage. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh all right, yes," he admitted.

Lily chuckled. "Ok," she said. "I think you're the coolest Marauder. But don't tell James I said so."

"Thanks," he said, smiling as he realised that it was the first time in a long time that she'd called him James. "If he asks you to go out with him again, are you going to say yes?"

"I'm definitely thinking about it," she said, glancing up at the ceiling and grinning.

"Good," he said. "You know, you looked really pretty today, when you were talking to him and he was making you laugh."

"Did I?"

"Hmm," he murmured. He studied the fabric of the sofa cushion for a moment before looking up. "I just thought – well, I just thought you might like to know that, so the next time you talk to him you won't have to worry about it."

Lily smiled at him. "You're definitely the sweetest Marauder," she said.

"Oh well that's manly," he said, dismayed. She reached for the cushion he'd been absentmindedly toying with and swatted him playfully on the shoulder with it.

"You know," she said, "I wasn't going to mention this, but they say George was the one with the most notches on his bedpost."

"Is that right?" he said, desperately trying not to laugh.

"Yes," she said. "Apparently, he used to use the fact that girls thought he was shy and innocent to get them into bed." Remus shook with silent laughter, feeling that his face was probably very red indeed. "So if you don't fancy being the sweet one, maybe you can be the quiet cool one who sleeps with tarts."

He glared at her playfully for a moment. "Oh be quiet, Yoko," he said, and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"What's so funny?"

They both turned, peering over the back of the sofa to find James staring down at them. "Nothing," Remus said, getting to his feet. "Lily was just lambasting me for liking Dear Prudence."

"It is pretty dreary," James said.

"Maybe that's why I like it," Remus said. "Well," he added, thinking that making himself scarce might be a good idea. "I think I'll go to bed. Goodnight."

" 'Night," Lily said.

"I'll be up in a minute," James said.

Remus grinned. "I won't wait up," he said, and headed for the stairs, leaving James and Lily alone by the fire.

* * *

**A/N: Ta muchly to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and anyone who reviews this one gets to dance with their favourite Marauder to their favourite Beatles song. **

**If anyone wants me, I'll be in the corner with Remus, shimmying to I Saw Her Standing There. ;) **


	6. Heather Noonan

Lily and James had been out on one official, proper date – for a walk in the grounds, and they'd been left alone by tactful friends in the common room late at night on a number of occasions, and in the library earlier that week.

It was practically the talk of the school that the Head Boy and Girl were romantically involved, with neither of them being able to set foot in a corridor without attracting nudges and whispers and the odd knowing glance from Gryffindors who had long suspected that the barbs flying across the common room were simply a cover for something else.

James was deliriously happy about the situation, and whenever Remus had seen Lily, she's seemed pretty happy about the turn things had taken between them too.

Given all that, Remus thought that his confusion about why Lily was surreptitiously dragging _him_ into the deserted Charms classroom instead of his friend at half past ten at night was perfectly justified. "Lily, what are you – "

"Shh. I need to talk to you."

"Oh," Remus said.

His head reeled with possibilities. Although he and Lily often talked, they normally weren't quite so cloak and dagger about it, unless he'd done something disastrous with a member of the opposite sex, which, as far as he was aware anyway, he hadn't. In fact, recently, he'd been depressingly far from doing _anything_ with a member of the opposite sex.

His heart sank as he realised what this was probably about. His first attempt at match-making had been going so well…. James was going to be crushed.

He looked expectantly at Lily, and minutes slipped by as she glanced distractedly out of the window in the door. "Lily?" he said, thinking that it was probably best to get it over and done with.

"Hmm?"

"I don't know if you're familiar with the general rules concerning talking," Remus said, "but it usually involves, you know, talking."

Lily turned towards him, cocked her head and glowered. "Sorry," he said, deciding to abandon his sarcasm and smile encouragingly instead. "What's wrong?"

Lily let out a long, slow breath. "It's just – " He braced himself. "Is James ever going to kiss me?" she said abruptly. Remus stared at her, flabbergasted. For a moment he was too relieved that she didn't want his advice about how to break up with James to speak.

"What?" he said incredulously. He'd assumed that there had – at least – been kissing, and in fact, if there hadn't been, he was a bit miffed that all his tactfulness had gone to waste.

"Seriously, Remus," she said, resting her hands on her hips as she watched him take in what she was saying.

"I thought he – well, he said he had," Remus said, frowning in confusion. He was sure James had come – in fact, almost skipped – into their room declaring that he had shared a perfect kiss with the girl who was now standing in front of him, hands on hips and denying all knowledge. Maybe he'd dreamt it…. "Didn't he kiss you the other night when we all so tactfully left you alone in the library?"

"On the nose!" she said, throwing her hands into the air.

"Oh," Remus said slowly, eyebrows rising as it all fell into place.

"I kiss people I'm related to more passionately than that," Lily said.

"And that night I left you alone in the common room?" Remus asked.

"No," she said, raising her eyebrow at him. "We just talked."

"Oh," he said, his eyebrows shooting up again.

Thinking that this was a conversation they'd be better having sitting down, Remus slid down the door onto the floor, beckoning for Lily to join him. She shot a last furtive glance out of the window, and then did the same, landing next to him with a soft thump and a sigh.

"What's with the surprise?" she said, gesturing vaguely at the eyebrows that were still a little too high on his forehead. Remus shrugged.

"Just – well, he's liked you for ages," he said. "I thought as soon as he thought you liked him back and wouldn't slap him he'd – I don't know – make the most of it. If it was me, I – "

"Would've been all over me like a rash?"

Remus grimaced at her playfully, and she smiled. In fact, it was almost a smirk. "A nice rash," he said feebly.

"Yes," Lily said, grinning, "but as I think has been fairly well documented, you're a great big tart." Remus glared at her a little less playfully than he'd grimaced, and crossed his arms.

"Do you want my help or not?" he said.

"Sorry," she said, not looking in the least genuinely apologetic.

"Anyway," Remus said, "seems you'd rather like James to be a touch more tarty."

"Not necessarily," she said. "It's not like I want him to drag me into a broom cupboard and – you know – " She made a vague gesture that he thought he was probably supposed to interpret as indicating the kind of thing people did in broom cupboards. " – but – well, at first I liked that he wasn't immediately trying to stick his tongue down my throat, but now I'm a bit – well – worried that he hasn't."

Remus considered Lily's dilemma. It certainly didn't sound like James to be backwards about coming forwards, but then, that day in the Three Broomsticks, he'd been positively flustered…. "It's just – he hasn't – he hasn't gone off me, has he?" she said, frowning slightly as she spoke as if it was the very last question on earth she wanted to ask.

"Why would you think that?"

"I was talking to Elsa about it last night, and she was saying that maybe he'd spent so long creating this fantasy of what I was like in his mind that the real thing is – you know, a bit of a disappointment." Lily frowned a little deeper. "Then she started asking me what kind of energy he was giving off and I kind of lost track of her argument," she added, shaking her head in confusion.

Remus chuckled. "Did she lend you a book?"

"Yes," Lily said, drawing her eyebrows together in surprise. "How did you – "

"It's interesting," Remus said. "You should read it. Although it _is_ full of new age hippie crap, despite what she says." Lily laughed, and it echoed around the empty classroom.

"Will it help?" she said.

"Probably not."

Lily slumped against the door and sighed. She fidgeted for a moment, toying with the hem of her skirt and flicking bits of, as far as he could make out, imaginary fluff off it and onto the floor. "Does he – you know, talk about me or anything?" she said quietly, her eyes flickering up to meet his for the briefest of seconds. Remus thought how unbelievably happy James would be if he could see Lily right now, how nervous and excited she was just talking about him.

"To be honest," Remus said, between sniggers at the thought, "if he utters a sentence without the word 'Lily' in it ever again, I'll be mightily surprised."

She blushed and looked down at her skirt, toying with one of the pleats at her knee. "Oh," she said, softly, the corners of her mouth hitching into the beginnings of a smile. Then she looked up and met his eye, biting her lip. "So you don't think there's anything in Elsa's theory?"

"No," Remus said, and she grinned.

"You sound pretty certain."

"I am. However great he _thought_ you were, having you for real has got to be so much better, hasn't it?"

She nodded, looking a little comforted and reassured by his words, and rested her head against the doorframe, turning towards him a little. "Then what's he waiting for?"

Remus leant towards her conspiratorially, peering at her through the ends of his fringe. "Maybe," he said, "you just make him nervous."

"Nervous?" she said, incredulously. "James Potter?"

"Yes," he said.

"Why? You'd have thought – you know, since we went out – he'd have less reason to be nervous than ever. And he never seemed especially nervous before – not even when I was telling him I'd rather snog the giant squid than go anywhere near him."

Remus smiled to himself, remembering all the late night discussions after each and every one of Lily's many and varied, and often colourful, refusals. He couldn't believe that she hadn't realised that all of James' cockiness was just a front.

"Haven't you ever been in a situation with someone where you really, really liked them," he said, "so much that you wanted to do everything right – so much so that the only thing you could do was nothing because that was the only thing you could think of that wouldn't mess everything up?"

He looked up to find Lily staring intently at her fingernails. "Oh yes," she said. "I know exactly what that feels like."

"Really?" he said, his voice high with astonishment.

"Yeah," she said. Even though he'd asked the question, he never imagined that it was something Lily would have felt – she was always so cool and collected and in control, sure of herself, somehow. Who on earth had she felt like that with?

"Are you going to elaborate?" he asked.

"Nope," she said, looking up brightly.

He smiled, defeated, thinking that it probably wasn't important who it was, that he should just be grateful that he didn't have to go into lots of humiliating detail about his past romantic endeavours to explain the crushing paralysis of really liking someone and not knowing when was the right time to do something about it.

"I could talk to him, if you like," Remus said, realising as he made the offer that he wasn't entirely sure he'd survive a conversation like that with James.

"And say what, Remus?" she said. " 'Hey James, Lily wants you to get your act together and snog her face off'?"

"Might work," he said, laughing, "if he doesn't skin me alive. And if he does, he might still listen, which'll be fine for you."

"Not so good for you, though."

"Nonsense. I'll just be a bit more…slippery."

Lily made a horrified face and gave him a quick admonishing shove. "That's disgusting," she said.

"Sorry."

They chuckled together for a moment, and then Lily met his eye, biting her lip as she gazed at him from beneath a couple of strands of loose hair. "What would you think if I kissed you?" she said. Remus smiled slightly.

"That you were really mean for cheating on James just because he hasn't kissed you yet," he said, and Lily glowered at him playfully.

"No, I mean, if you were him. Or if I was some girl you liked. How would you feel if I kissed you?"

"Overjoyed," Remus said, rolling his eyes. "Being the boy is really stressful."

"Is it?"

"Oh yes," he said. "When you go out with a girl for the first time, you can't really enjoy yourself because you spend the whole time worrying about whether she wants you to kiss her or not – you don't want to kiss her if she doesn't want you to, but you don't want to _not_ kiss her if she wants you to, but there's not – well, I've never worked out, anyway – a sure-fire way to tell the difference."

"Really?" she said.

"Hmm."

"Well it's easy," Lily said.

"What is?"

"Telling if a girl wants you to kiss her."

Remus smiled, noticing the pronounced changed in her demeanour. He couldn't help thinking that she much preferred being the one giving the advice than taking it. It hadn't escaped his attention that James was the first boy to ever make Lily come unstuck. "Go on, then," he said, not wanting to rob her of a chance to explain the mysteries of the fairer sex to him. "Enlighten me."

"Well, if a girl wants you to kiss her, normally she'll look at your lips."

"She could just be thinking that they're chapped, though, couldn't she? Or 'Merlin, I hope he doesn't put those things anywhere near me'."

Lily laughed. "I suppose. And she'll normally tilt her head to one side – "

"Maybe she slept funny."

"And she might play with her hair, thinking that she wishes you were doing it instead – "

"Or," he said, "because I'm so arse-achingly boring, she's dreaming about climbing out the window in the toilets and escaping from me."

Lily laughed, and he joined in. "I can see why you have trouble with it," she said. "It's not that you don't know what to look for, you just won't believe what your eyes are telling you."

"Hmm," he said. "Maybe."

"How come you've kissed so many girls, then?"

"Oh well that's easy," he said. "Olivia said 'are you going to kiss me or not?', so I did. Susan – I already knew she liked me a lot, so it wasn't the usual huge leap of imagination that she wouldn't mind if I kissed her. Elsa I knew was flirting with me because she kept putting her hand on my arm for no reason, and Lucidia – well, she really didn't give me the time to overanalyse things and chicken out – she just pinned me to the ground and kissed me."

Lily laughed. He was glad that his love-life at least served to offer his friends the odd flash of amusement. "You're really not much of a lothario, are you?" she said.

"No," he said, smiling at her. "I think the Marauders only need one, and Sirius had the position filled quite a while ago. Anyway," he said, "I thought we were here to discuss you, not me, for a change." She sighed.

"But talking about you is so much more fun," she said.

"Only for you," he muttered, and was rewarded with a grin. "So you're doing all that stuff when you're with James?" he said. "The looking at his lips, tilting your head stuff?"

"Yes," she said. "And nothing."

"Maybe he's as rubbish at reading that stuff as I am," Remus said, although he didn't really believe it for a second.

"Maybe."

"Maybe _you_ should just kiss _him_," he mused.

"If I did that to you – you wouldn't think I was – I don't know – a tart or something, for kissing you rather than waiting for you to kiss me?"

"No, of course not," Remus said. "But then – "

"You don't mind tarts?" Lily supplied.

"I was going to say I'm not like James," Remus said, crossing his arms sulkily.

Lily nudged him apologetically with her shoulder, and he gave up his momentary sulk without much of a struggle. "What do you mean, anyway?" she said.

"Well I'm – " He glanced up at the ceiling, not sure he really knew how to explain it. "I don't know. I don't mind girls like that because _I'm_ not like that, and to be honest, I admire their bottle. But James, well – you know us both. We're not exactly two peas in a pod."

"No," she said, with a rather wry smile. "I suppose not."

"I wouldn't write him off, though," he said. "Maybe he doesn't want to do anything that might rock the boat, make you reject him. He does like you a lot."

"You really think that's it?"

"He was really happy when you just started talking to him," Remus said quietly. "Maybe he just needs to get used to the idea that you're not going to go back to the way things were."

Lily considered him for a moment. "When did you get so good at this?" she said.

"Oh I'm great with other people's love-lives," he said, "it's just my own I have the trouble with."

"Hmm," she said, letting out a soft, amused, sigh. "Nobody on the horizon for Lothario Lupin, then?"

Remus sniggered. "No," he said. "I don't think so."

"So you've sworn off girls, again, then?"

"I think it's rather more that they've sworn off me," he said, rolling his eyes. "Elsa told me Lucidia's not exactly been discreet. Payback for me putting her in detention, I suppose. You two are the only ones still talking to me."

"Well who else would you want to talk to anyway?" Lily said.

"Exactly," he said.

They sat quietly smiling at each other for a moment, and Remus thought about his life, and the unexpected turn it had taken. He'd never thought – dreamed, even – of having friends like this, people who wanted to confide in him. He couldn't help but feel a slight glow in his insides at the thought.

"We'd better get back," he said. "It's nearly eleven."

Lily nodded and they got to their feet and trudged back to the common room. Outside the portrait hole, Lily paused. "You really think it's just a matter of time?" she said.

"I do," he said. "Of course there's always the other option."

"Other option?"

"Well, what's James' favourite thing in the whole world? The one thing he can't resist?"

"Quidditch?" she offered.

"No," Remus said, laughing. "A dare. He can't resist a challenge."

"I should dare him to kiss me?" she said.

"No," Remus said. "But I could. You know, if you get desperate."

Lily punched him on the arm, and they stepped through into the common room, laughing. After a quick scan round to check that the place hadn't burned down in their absence, they said goodnight and went up their respective staircases.

As Remus pushed the door to their room open, Sirius looked up from the game of Exploding Snap he was playing with Peter. The slight smell of singeing in the air indicated that they'd been at it for a while. "Where have you been, then?" he said, a glint in his eye that suggested he thought it might be a story worth hearing.

"Nowhere," he said, thinking that it would probably be better if James never knew that he'd spent the last half an hour discussing his burgeoning relationship with his girlfriend and their distinct lack of lip-action. He wasn't entirely sure James wouldn't string him up from the top of Gryffindor Tower if he knew half the things he and Lily talked about.

"_Nowhere_ nowhere or _shagging somebody in a broom cupboard_ nowhere?" Sirius said.

Remus sighed. However often he tried to make Sirius understand that he wasn't some great big tart who tried to sleep with every girl he spoke to, Sirius didn't quite believe him. Either that or he just liked teasing him too much to let the truth get in the way.

"_Nowhere_ nowhere," Remus said. James looked up from the textbook he was reading and raised an eyebrow rather disbelievingly. "Really," Remus said, crossing the room and leaning on the wall next to the window. "Believe me, I would love to fill you all in on the more salacious details of my evening, but unless you want to hear about the papercut I got from a copy of _Ancient Runes: The Messapic Paradox_, there really isn't much to tell."

Sirius got up from the bed and slapped Remus reassuringly on the shoulder. "We all have our dry spells, mate."

Remus closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then rubbed distractedly at his shoulder where Sirius had hit him. "It's not a – dry spell," he said, closing his eyes again as he uttered the phrase. "I just – "

"I thought you liked Denie Clayborn?" James said. "You know, since you got paired for that Astronomy project?"

He couldn't deny it. Maybe it had been the romantic overtones of the project, the fact that they'd been forced to spend a week gazing at the stars together, but he had been quite taken with Denie. Peter looked up expectantly from the bed, and James smiled at him encouragingly.

"Yes, and then Lucidia kindly informed her that I'd shagged her in a broom cupboard and now Denie won't even look at me, let alone anything else," Remus said, ruefully. Elsa had informed him a couple of weeks ago that Lucidia had taken great pleasure in telling anyone who'd listen what they'd gotten up to, and it seemed that anyone who'd listen included most of the girls in the school.

"Maybe she'll come round," Peter offered.

"Maybe," Remus said, although he didn't hold out much hope.

"You know," Sirius said, "if I'd known this was going to happen – "

Known this was going to happen?

Remus didn't like the sound of that one bit. He narrowed his eyes at Sirius, and Sirius, having apparently abruptly realised that he'd just dropped himself in it, shifted from foot to foot while trying to look nonchalant. "What do you mean if you'd known this was going to happen?"

"Well, Lucidia getting in the way of you being with girls you like."

"Right," Remus said, raising an eyebrow at him to indicate that he expected him to continue, since there was obviously more to say.

"Well I wouldn't've…."

Sirius made a vague gesture of surrender, his palms turned towards the ceiling. "Wouldn't've _what_?" Remus said, more insistently.

Sirius exchanged a glance with James, who just looked on and shrugged. He exchanged another with Peter, who shrank a little from his gaze. "Wouldn't've, you know, set you up," he said, with what Remus thought was rather false bravado.

"Set me up?"

Sirius cleared his throat and winced slightly. "I might have had something to do with the two of you getting together. I might have – you know – suggested to her that she go out with you. But I never would have if I'd known – "

"You – you – _what_?"

His brain struggled to process the information it had just received, and Remus wasn't sure he had the words to really describe what he was feeling. Had Lucidia not liked him, then? Had Sirius talked her into it?

"Oh come on," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "You did fancy her, didn't you?"

"Well yes, but – "

"And you never would have had the guts to do anything about it. You know you wouldn't. Not with a girl like that."

"So what did you do? Pay her to go out with me or something?"

"No!" Sirius said, appalled. "I just told her that you kind of fancied her and that if she fancied a shag you might be up for it."

It took Remus a moment to process the full horror of what Sirius was saying, and another to realise his mouth was open. "Why?" he stammered. "Why would you..?"

Even as he asked the question, he thought he probably knew the answer. Nothing would've amused Sirius more than setting this all up, watching as it unravelled before him. "It was for your own good," Sirius said.

"My own good?"

"Yeah. All that moping and soul-searching was seriously boring. You just needed a good shag."

"I – I – gah," Remus stammered.

"And don't say you didn't enjoy it, because I know you did."

"Oh yes," Remus said, glaring, "having my heart ripped out is, in fact, my favourite pastime."

All of a sudden, everything seemed to make sense. Lucidia had probably thought – thanks to his so-called friend – that he was only interested in one thing. No wonder she was so narked about the whole revenge detention thing. She probably hadn't even realised that he liked her, probably thought they both understood the casualness of the arrangement. "You know, I really liked her," he said.

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"You could have asked!" Remus said. "Or – I don't know – stayed out of it altogether?"

"I just – " Sirius started. Remus raised his hand and cut Sirius off. He didn't want to hear it.

"Ugh," Remus said. "I'm not talking to you."

"Moony – "

"I mean it," Remus said firmly.

He didn't want to be in the room anymore. He knew James would take Sirius' side even if he thought he was wrong, and he knew Peter would follow James. "I'm going for a walk," he said, to no-one in particular.

Sirius was halfway through and imploring 'Moony' when Remus stopped him with a fierce look. "And I'm taking your Firewhiskey," he said. He opened Sirius' bedside cabinet and grabbed the bottle, then stormed out of the room.

* * *

Remus was vaguely aware of two things. One, he was cold. Far, far too cold. Two, his bed wasn't nearly as comfortable as it usually was. Three –

Hang on, he thought. That's more than two things.

Remus was vaguely aware of a number of things. One, he was cold. Far, far too cold. Two, his bed wasn't nearly as comfortable as it usually was. Three, the light was far, far, far, far, far too bright. Four, he had a pounding, unrelenting headache.

He opened his eyes slowly to find two startling blue eyes looking back at him. He blinked, but they didn't disappear.

He tried again.

Nope, still there.

Surmising that they weren't a figment of his imagination, he took in the rest of the face they came with, quickly coming to the conclusion that he had awoken to find himself nose to nose with Heather Noonan. "Morning, sunshine," she said.

Remus disregarded the other, now seemingly insignificant problems of cold, headache, and brightness, and sat bolt upright, swallowing wildly.

Where the hell – what the hell –

He looked around. He seemed to be at the top of the Astronomy Tower. With Heather Noonan. And they were alone.

He looked down. He seemed to have all of his clothes on, which seemed important, somehow, although at the moment he couldn't really remember why.

Heather sat up slowly. "You know that was a bit rude," she said.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice low and hollow.

What on earth had he done?

He thought back to the night before. He'd stormed out, had quite a bit to drink, and come up here, he thought, to gaze at the stars and get properly melancholy before he went back to the room to deal with Sirius. He didn't remember running into Heather at all, and he couldn't think for the life of him what she was doing up here. She didn't even do Astronomy.

He took in her face, trying to see clues in it as to what might have happened. Her hair was a messy, frizzy red halo, but then it always was, so no clue there.

"It's all right," she said, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. "I forgive you."

Remus desperately thought back to try and ascertain what she was forgiving him for. He thought he should probably slowly work up to dealing with why she was kissing him, since his brain didn't seem to really be firing on all cylinders. Or indeed any cylinders.

Having worked out that she was forgiving him for sitting up, he felt a little better. But not much.

He swallowed. Her face broke into a large, toothy grin. "Or I will if you get me some breakfast. I'm starving, and it's the least you can do, really," she said.

"The least I can do?" he said tentatively.

"Yes," she said, with a confused frown, "now that I'm your girlfriend."

_Girlfriend? _

Remus blinked a couple of times, still clinging to the hope that this was all some figment of his twisted imagination, but Heather Noonan seemed all too real.

It wasn't that he didn't like her – she always seemed to be teetering just a little too closely to the edge of being completely insane, but apart from that…. Still, he couldn't think of a single reason why he would be up here with her, on his own, and why she was referring to herself as his girlfriend.

Unless, of course, he thought, his heart sinking down into his stomach, he'd gotten really drunk and done something stupid.

Remus offered her a smile that he suspected might look more, to a trained observer, like a grimace. He got to his feet, staggering slightly as the blood rushed to his head, making him feel dizzy. He leant on the wall and stamped the feeling back into the foot he hadn't realised in all the Heather Noonan panic was asleep. Getting her breakfast seemed like a good idea, he thought. At least it was a chance to escape.

He asked her what she'd like, barely listening to the reply, and then bolted for the Great Hall.

His friends – and several other people – looked up, startled, as he made for the Gryffindor table, smoothing down the hair he knew was probably sticking up all over the place and fussing with the robes he knew probably looked entirely too slept in.

"What the hell happened to me last night?" he said when he reached his friends. He searched their faces for an explanation, but James and Peter stared down at their plates and Sirius just scowled.

"I thought you weren't talking to me?" Sirius said, taking a surly and rather purposeful mouthful of toast.

"I'm not."

"That'd be a bit more convincing without words," Sirius said. Remus waved his protest aside.

"This is an emergency," he said. "I just woke up next to Heather Noonan."

Sirius immediately abandoned both his toast and his surliness and roared with laughter. "Oh bloody hell, Moony. You didn't."

"I did."

"Wake up next to her did or did something else did?"

"I definitely woke up next to her," he said. He glanced at the ceiling, desperately trying to stem his embarrassment. "As to the rest, well, that's why I said this was an emergency," he whispered. "I don't even remember _talking_ to her."

Sirius grinned. "She's going to eat you for breakfast," he said. "And then spit you out by lunchtime." Remus swallowed, trying to quell the rising bile and panic in his chest.

"That's a lovely analogy," he said, gripping the edge of the table and closing his eyes as he swayed nauseously on the spot. "The one thing I need to be thinking about at the moment is regurgitation."

He gagged at the very thought. He looked to his other friends for some support, but James was desperately and quite obviously battling the urge to laugh, and Peter was just behind him, staring at him with knowing amusement. Remus was immediately suspicious.

"So what happened?" Remus said, looking pointedly at James. For a moment he thought James was about to deny all knowledge, but then he rolled his eyes and relented.

"You took the Firewhiskey and disappeared," James said. "We thought we'd leave you to cool off for a bit, but when you weren't back by one me and Peter looked for you on the map." James and Sirius exchanged a glance, and Remus wondered if Sirius was miffed to be left out of the loop. "You were up the Astronomy Tower," James continued. "So we came to see if you were all right. You were drunk, so we rolled you into the corner."

"You just left me there?"

"What else were we supposed to do?" James said.

"Carry me to bed?" Remus offered. "Wake me up?"

"We tried," Peter said, "but with just the two of us – "

"And Peter's weedy girl arms – "

Peter turned to James, his face flushed with indignation. "Hey!"

"Sorry," James said, shrugging, "but you know it's true."

Sirius shifted a little in his seat, and Remus wondered if he felt guilty. "So you just left me?" Remus said.

"We were going to come back later," James said defensively. "You know what you're like when you're drunk – you're all – " He searched for the word, his forehead creased in thought. " – flaily," he said. Remus wondered if he should tell him that that wasn't a word at all, but he decided, on balance, that it was largely beside the point. "We couldn't have got you under the cloak in that state, so we thought we'd just let you sleep it off for a bit first. Then, when we checked the map again, Heather Noonan had appeared."

Sirius shot him a suggestive smile. "And naturally they assumed you were – " he said.

"Please stop putting me in the same bracket as you," Remus said, grimacing. "This may come as a huge surprise to you, Padfoot, but some people do actually go up the Astronomy Tower to look at the stars."

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him and then looked away, smirking. "Your dots were very close together," James mumbled, suddenly fascinated by the scrambled egg on his plate that he was toying with. Remus rolled his eyes, tensing his jaw indignantly.

"So you just left me there for Heather Noonan to take advantage of me?"

"Believe me," Sirius said, "if you'd done anything with Heather Noonan, you'd remember it, no matter how wasted you were."

Remus supposed that was something.

Of course, assuming Sirius was right.

He couldn't remember doing anything with Heather Noonan, but then, he couldn't remember _not_ doing anything with her either. He frowned at the thought.

"So are you going to go out with her, then?" Peter asked.

"I don't know," Remus said. "She didn't really seem to want to give me much choice in the matter. And I didn't know what to say to her because I didn't know if I'd – you know – made some kind of commitment last night."

His stomach sank at the very thought. "So – what exactly are you doing in here?" James said, looking a him with distinct puzzlement.

"Oh," Remus said, suddenly remembering. "I said I'd get her something to eat."

"Wrapped around her little finger already," Sirius said. He lifted his pumpkin juice in salute. "Well, it's been nice knowing you."

Remus rolled his eyes, grabbed a small stack of toast and a jug of pumpkin juice and reluctantly headed back up to the Astronomy Tower.

Heather was staring out over the grounds with a rather dreamy expression on her face, and he winced at the thought. He cleared his throat to attract her attention. "Remus!" she said, spinning round. He couldn't help thinking that there was something quite manic about her grin. "You're such a sweetheart. I knew you would be."

He forced himself to smile and set the toast, carefully wrapped in a napkin, and the jug on the parapet. She helped herself to a slice, chewing it not unlike he imagined a squirrel might. "Don't you want any?" she said. Remus groaned at the thought.

"No," he said. "To tell you the truth I'm feeling a bit worse for wear."

"Oh," she said. "I thought you might be. I mean, it's a shame, but – "

"A shame?" he said.

"Yes," she said, "because I was just thinking that this would be a really lovely setting for our first kiss."

"Our first..?"

She nodded enthusiastically and clutched his arm. "Don't you think so?" she said, eyes wide with enthusiasm. "I mean look at the view, and you've been so sweet, bringing me breakfast and everything. But, you know, if you're feeling a bit iffy I'm sure we'll come up with something just as lovely. I mean, I don't want you to be sick on me. That'd be memorable for all the wrong reasons."

She rolled her eyes dramatically, and he smiled.

"So we didn't – "

He stumbled for the word. Have sex? Shag? Copulate? Fornicate? Yikes – _make love_?

"Didn't what?" she said, taking another slice of toast.

"Do anything that involved taking our clothes off," he said.

"No," she said. He let out a sigh of relief.

For a moment he thought she might be offended at the suggestion, but then she tossed the toast aside and stepped closer, pressing herself against him with a look in her eyes that said she'd just had a very bright idea. He tensed, wondering if taking a large, noticeable step back would be considered rude.

She settled her hands on his hips and he wished he'd acted a little quicker with the step back.

"Although," she said, slyly, running her hand over his hip and onto his thigh, "you know, you _can_ do it without getting undressed. I'll show you – "

Before she could do anything else, he grabbed her hand. "Heather – we – I mean – "

He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to say. "Didn't you just say that we haven't even kissed yet?"

"Yes," she said, with a look of real incomprehension in her eyes, as though the two things were entirely unrelated. She tried to move her hand again, but he stopped her.

"Er – "

"Don't you fancy me?" she said, her tone slowly rising. "You spent the night with me and you don't even fancy me?"

He could barely make out the last few words since they were so high-pitched. He almost didn't want to look down, but he forced himself to. Her lips was trembling and her eyes held a kind of cold, desperate rage he was fairly certain he didn't want to see come to fruition. "Heather," he said. "We didn't spend the night together spend the night together, did we?" She looked spectacularly confused, her eyes switching between his. "I mean nothing happened."

"Nothing except the connecting of two lonely souls," she said, and tears sprang into her eyes. "I expected better of you, Remus."

She let out a loud, rather undignified, hollow wail. "Erm – " Remus said, looking desperately around for some kind of help, even though he knew they were alone.

"Boys," she said loudly, choking on the word as she sobbed. She sniffed dramatically and wiped her face with the sleeve of her jumper. "It's all about sex. If we didn't have sex then nothing happened. It doesn't matter that we really talked or felt something – no, it's always just about the sex."

In amongst all the confusion, Remus couldn't help feeling a little bit put out. After all, she was the one who wanted to have sex, not him. All he really wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die.

"Heather – " he started, even though he had no idea what he was going to say next.

"You think I'm hideous," she said.

"No I don't," he said earnestly. "Just – "

"You just don't fancy me."

Remus frowned, unable to sort out in his mind what her argument was, what he had done to upset her and, more importantly, how he might get her to stop crying. "Don't you want to – I don't know – get to know each other – go out or something – first?"

"I think when two people have a connection, like we have – " she said, pressing her hand to his chest and then hers, "there's no need for that necessarily."

He wondered if he wasn't following her argument because of his raging hangover, or because she was quite clearly nuts.

"Ok," he said, slowly. "Connection?"

"Don't tell me you don't feel it, Remus," she said, "or you'll break my heart."

He assumed she was joking, but one look at her face told him that she wasn't. There was no playful pout there, no jokey smile. She was desperately serious. Although she did appear to have stopped crying, which he supposed was something.

He took a step back towards the wall, attempting to get some distance, but she took two steps towards him, ending up closer than she had been. He took another step back, and his heel came into contact with the stone behind him. He gulped.

"Do you believe in fate, Remus?"

"Erm – what?"

"Well I do, and I've got a really good feeling about us. The best feeling."

"Really?"

"Of course," she said. "Fate brought us here."

"You don't think that maybe we just got a bit drunk and enjoyed the fresh air?" he asked, more in hope than expectation that she'd agree.

"No," she said. "I mean look at us – we've never really spoken before, but you were drawn to me."

"Drawn to you?"

"Well yes," she said. "You went away and then you came back."

"Because you told me to get you breakfast," he said.

"Right," she said. "Precisely."

Remus frowned at her. The way she was acting, it was as if he was the dimwit and she was making perfect sense.

He wasn't entirely sure she wasn't right, and he was so busy pondering it that he didn't realise until it was far too late that she was leaning in to kiss him. His lips responded to hers – he didn't want to rude, but he didn't really want to be too enthusiastic, either. However, it slowly dawned on him that she was probably being enthusiastic enough for both of them. When she eventually pulled away, she was grinning. "You weren't sick on me," she said. "That was thoughtful."

He smiled at her faintly. She brushed the tears from her eyes and squeezed his hand. "Come on," she said. "I want to show you off to all my friends."

"You want to..?"

"Yes," she said. "They'll all be so pleased I finally met someone nice. Someone who understands me."

"Right," he said.

He was utterly torn. He desperately didn't want her to start crying again, but he didn't really want to be shown off to her friends either. He just needed to find a way out of this. He decided to try something drastic. "Heather?" he said. "There's something I should probably tell you."

She turned towards him, wide-eyed with curiosity. He took a steadying breath, more for effect than because he really needed the oxygen. "It's just that, well, you might have heard the rumours about Lucidia Jones and me – "

"Oh yes," she said. "I know all about that."

"Well, they're true," he said.

"So?" she said. "Everybody makes mistakes."

Hell, he thought. Just his luck to find the one other girl in the school who didn't care.

"Don't you see?" she said, clutching his hand so tightly it was really quite painful. "This makes us perfect for each other."

"Does it?"

"Yes," she said. "We both know what it's like to make mistakes, so maybe we won't make them with each other. This is going to be so much fun."

Somehow, Remus suspected otherwise.

As she dragged him down the stairs he sighed and rolled his eyes, wondering how on earth he was going to get out of this one.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and as a reward for doing the same for this one, there's a Remus backed against a wall to play with. **

**Incidentally, anyone wishing we'd seen a little bit more of Heather needn't fret – I didn't really want to re-write the Gringotts scene (since I think I've already said all there really is to say about it in Werewolf), but she will be back. She's his bad penny girlfriend, and consequently, she might show up, without warning, anywhere ;). **


	7. Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Remus found himself sitting in the library, desperately trying to catch up on his school work, his view of _Ancient Runes: The Messapic Paradox,_ which he had been trying to read, spectacularly impeded by the frizzy-haired redhead in his lap, and his concentration at a low ebb owing to the way she was playing with his hair.

He wasn't entirely sure how it had happened.

Well, he was. Heather had cornered him, asked if she could join him, and, having not foreseen this particular outcome, he'd agreed.

But he didn't know how this – her thinking she _could_ sit on his lap and play with his hair – had happened.

Well, actually, if he was honest, he knew that too.

Heather thought she was perfectly entitled to sit on his lap and play with his hair because she was – despite his best efforts – still his girlfriend.

He'd tried – he really had – to seem as disinterested in her as he could in the hope that she might take the hint and in turn lose interest herself. Girls were supposed to be good at that, weren't they, sensing what boys really felt? Elsa had known his heart wasn't really in their relationship, and he'd made much more of an effort to be interested in her than he ever had with Heather.

But, worryingly, Heather hadn't really seemed to notice his disinterest, or if she had, didn't seem to care that she never had his full attention, or that he tried to avoid any romantic advances she made as best he could, or that he couldn't – by any stretch of the imagination – be considered in any way keen.

And hence, she was sitting on his lap, cooing into his ear, and running her fingers through his hair.

Remus sighed. He knew something had to be done; he just wasn't entirely sure what.

"Heather?" he said, although he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say next.

He'd started a lot of conversations with the word 'Heather' over the last few weeks – always trying to progress to 'Heather, I don't think this is really working' or 'Heather, I'm not sure we're really all that suited' or 'Heather, I just don't really want to go out with you' – but never quite succeeding. Every time he'd gotten close to broaching the subject of them not being together any more she'd started welling up, and since he didn't really want to be alone with her in a secluded spot for fear of the places she might try and put her hands to convince him that they _were_ suited physically if nothing else, they were nearly always in public, and he couldn't bear to go through with it.

"Hmm?" she murmured.

"I was – well, it's just that I've got quite a lot of work to do."

She grinned, rather inexplicably – which she did, quite often. It was one of the things he found most unnerving about her. He could never get within a hundred feet of gauging her reaction to anything he said. He never knew what she'd find funny, or upsetting, or what would make her angry, and consequently he was always on edge. "You're such a sweetheart," she said, her blue eyes wide with something that looked a bit like awe, although he wasn't entirely sure it could be.

"Am I?" he said, utterly bewildered. He felt himself frown and she traced the lines on his forehead with her fingertips, which did nothing to dampen his brow's enthusiasm for a downward slant.

A sweetheart…. He wondered how him hinting that he wanted her to get off him so he could attend to some well-needed revision could in any way be interpreted as him being a sweetheart, but quite often she'd turn something entirely non-committal he'd said into a compliment, he supposed to make up for a distinct lack of the real thing.

Of course he'd tried to solve _that_ problem by saying as few words to her as physically possible, but it hadn't really worked.

Evidently.

Heather grinned and toyed with his ear. "You're trying to tell me you find me much too distracting," she said, squirming in his lap. He gripped the seat of the chair so hard he thought his knuckles might break.

"Oh."

She kissed his nose, and over her shoulder he saw Lily come in, spot him, and smirk. He closed his eyes briefly, and by the time he opened them, she'd appeared at his side and found a chair next to him. "Sorry to interrupt you _lovebirds_," Lily said, meeting his eye and not bothering to conceal her sarcasm, since if there was one thing Heather didn't get, it was sarcasm. "I just needed a word."

Heather looked from him to Lily and back again. He thought she was probably waiting for Lily to speak, which he didn't think Lily had any intention of doing. "Oh," she said eventually, "is it private?"

"Kind of," Lily said, "you don't mind, do you?"

"No," Heather said, with what Remus couldn't help thinking was rather false chipperness that he'd probably have to pay for later. "I'm not one of those annoying clingy girlfriends. Am I Remus?"

Lily met his eye, and he could tell she was dying to laugh. Still, she stifled a giggle quite impressively, and Remus swallowed his own laughter. "No," he said, clearing his throat. "Of course not."

Heather kissed him on the nose again. "You're just such a sweetheart," she said, staring at him intently. Remus tried to inch away, but found he was already pressed as far into the chair back as his body would allow. "I hate to tear myself away."

Remus didn't know what to say, settling for murmuring something non-committal, which was his one and only defence. Even Heather couldn't turn a half-hearted mumble that contained no actual words into something complimentary. She kissed him on the lips, running her fingers through his hair. "Ok," she said slowly, her voice loaded with reluctance she was presumably waiting for him to echo. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks."

"I was just going anyway," she said, and then kissed him again. He forced a smile. "I'll see you later."

The frown that had only just departed sprang back. "Will you?" he said, entirely baffled.

"Yes," she said. "When you meet me outside my common room to wish me goodnight." Meeting only his confused frown, Heather continued. "Like we talked about earlier?"

"Did we?"

"You know," she said, rolling her eyes with amused exasperation. "I said I'd like for us to spend some time together later, and you said that you were going to be busy tonight until quite late."

She exchanged a conspiratorial look with Lily. "Men," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically, before sliding off his lap. She tilted his head back and kissed him rather more eagerly than he thought was appropriate when someone was sitting right next to him, and then left.

Remus swallowed. He almost didn't want to meet Lily's eye, but he knew he couldn't avoid her forever, especially when she was sitting right next to him. He slowly, reluctantly, lifted his eyes to hers.

"Men indeed," Lily said raising an eyebrow at him. "I see you and Heather are still – " She paused and glanced up at the ceiling, seemingly in thought – but he could tell she was only pretending to be struggling for the word. She was actually stifling a laugh. " – friendly," she offered eventually, giving in to a rather hearty chuckle.

Remus playfully glared at her. "You know, she's really not that bad once you get to know her," he said.

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not!" he protested, with far more vehemence than he actually felt.

"Are," Lily said, tilting her head to one side. "She's probably worse," she muttered.

"Really, she's – she's – "

Remus faltered. Whenever he tried to describe Heather, the only word that readily sprang to mind was 'nuts', and he was hardly going to make his case with that. "Well – " he said.

He gave in and dropped his elbow onto the table, resting his head in his hand and peering at Lily through his fringe. He laughed at his own pitiful attempt at a protest. "All right," he said, rolling his eyes and fiddling with the spine of the book he'd abandoned on the table. "She is worse."

"Then why are you still going out with her?" Lily asked.

"Because," he said, with rather false conviction that he soon abandoned, feeling every inch the most pathetic human being alive, "I can't quite seem to break up with her."

Lily raised an eyebrow at him, as if she, too, thought he was every inch the most pathetic human being alive. "Can't quite seem to break up with her?" she said. "How hard can it be?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't know Heather very well, do you?" he said.

"I know she's nuts," Lily muttered.

"And hence the problem," Remus said.

"Have you tried saying the words 'Heather, I don't want to go out with you anymore?'"

"Of course I have," he said, squirming in his seat under Lily's rather fierce gaze. He'd seen her give a group of first years who'd been growing frog spawn in the second floor toilets the same look earlier that day. They'd caved and confessed, too. "Well, not exactly. Not in so many words," he said. Lily raised her eyebrows, indicating that she expected more. He swallowed. "Every time I try to broach the subject," he said, "she says something about how us being together is the only good thing in her life, that if we ever broke up she wouldn't have anything to live for, and she'd kill herself."

"You know she's lying," Lily said, fixing him with one of her sage, knowing, looks, as if her only function in life was to explain the world to lesser mortals who were hopelessly lost in its complexities. "She wouldn't _really_ kill herself. She's just saying that to get you to stay with her."

"Is that the kind of thing I want to take a chance on, though?" Remus said. "What if she's not lying? I'm not sure I want that on my conscience."

Lily frowned at him in consideration, then let out a long sigh. "So what are you going to do?" she said. "Stay with her forever?"

"No," Remus said emphatically.

"Then what?"

"Well," he said, "if my past form is anything to go on, sooner or later she'll get bored of me or I'll mess it up unintentionally."

"And if you don't?" she said, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I mean there is a first time for everything."

Remus offered her an open-mouthed look of mock-outrage for a moment, before giving it up because he really could do with some advice on the subject. He'd had no end of sleepless nights, lying there, racking his brain for some way to get rid of Heather without hurting her. "You think I should just break up with her and damn the consequences?" he said.

"It's just emotional blackmail," she said. "She knows you're nice and you wouldn't break up with her if you thought she'd do something stupid. She's just taking advantage of your good nature."

Remus raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on his chest in playful anguish. "Are you trying to tell me I'm _not_ the kind of boy girls leap off towers to their deaths over?" he said, and Lily laughed.

Remus studied the table for a moment, thinking that he really didn't have anything to lose by telling Lily everything, and she'd always been pretty helpful in the past. "I just don't want to hurt her feelings," he said.

"Of course the other option," Lily said, fixing him with a piercing look and pointing at him, "is that you don't really want to break up with her at all because secretly you like having a girl like that hanging on your every word."

Remus' surprise at her words was, he was sure, written all over his face. "What?"

"You can't tell me that there's not just a little bit of you that likes having someone who likes you _that _much?" she said.

"If I liked it," he said, "wouldn't I be a bit less of a nervous wreck?"

Lily chuckled softly. "I suppose," she said.

"I mean the whole thing is very strange," he said. "She keeps talking about fate and destiny and everything, but sometimes I wonder if she likes _me_ at all. I mean we never really talk because all she tries to do is turn everything I say into something else – and, I mean I've wondered if she just likes having someone – anyone – and she's not especially fussed who. And then sometimes…. I don't know. Sometimes I think all the crazy stuff she says is just her way of telling me she likes me a lot."

Lily dropped her head onto her hand and peered at him through her hair. "You do attract the strangest girls," she mused.

Remus looked away, desperately pressing his lips together to keep from smiling. "Oh what would you know," he said. "You can't even get James to kiss you properly."

When he glanced back, Lily was offering him a very similar open-mouthed glare of mock-offence to the one he'd offered her, her eyes dancing behind a few loose strands of hair. "What did you want to talk to me about, anyway?" Remus said, deciding that a change of subject might be warranted. "Have we reached desperation stakes and you want me to dare James to kiss you?"

"No," she said. "I think we're making progress on that front."

"We are?"

"Yes," Lily said. "He asked me if I'd like to spend the evening with him tomorrow – take a walk down to the lake, or something."

"Stroll by starlight," Remus said. "How romantic."

"Exactly."

"And you're optimistic?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "Very."

"Well I'm here," he said, "you know, should you need to put the other plan into action."

Lily elbowed him in the ribs. "Was that what you wanted to talk about?" he said, grinning at her as he dodged out of her way.

"No," she said. "I didn't actually need to talk to you about anything, I just thought you might need rescuing."

"Thanks," he said. "I did."

"Any time."

Lily leaned back in her chair and Remus fiddled with the frayed edges of _Ancient Runes: The Messapic Paradox_. "Does that make you my knight in shining armour?" he said, smirking, and Lily laughed.

"Well there is something of the damsel in distress about you," she replied.

At half past ten that evening, Remus found himself loitering outside the Hufflepuff common room, waiting for Heather so he could wish her goodnight and wishing Lily was there to rescue him. He'd contemplated not showing up at all, wondering whether if he didn't, Heather might break up with him, but in the end he hadn't really had the heart, and he wasn't entirely convinced that would do it anyway – she'd probably give him the benefit of the doubt – assume it had just slipped his mind.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Heather sneak up behind him and didn't actually register her presence at all until she caught him round the waist and hugged him. He gave a quick startled jump, his heart sinking as he realised that he wasn't being abducted by Dark Wizards or attacked by werewolf hunters, that it was, in fact, something much more frightening. "Hello," he said, trying to back out of Heather's embrace as he turned to face her.

"I missed you," Heather said, settling her hands on his waist and holding him with a surprisingly firm grip.

"It's only been a couple of hours," he said.

"I know, but don't you miss me when I'm not around, even if I'm only gone for a moment?" she said, sidling closer.

"Erm," Remus murmured. He didn't want to lie and say that he did when what he actually felt every time she left the room was relief, but he didn't really want to tell her that, either.

"Of course you do," she said, grinning at him. He offered her a tight-lipped smile that was distinctly grimace-tinged, and her features softened worryingly. She raised a hand and traced the side of his face with her fingers. "You don't need to be so embarrassed about telling me what you feel."

"I'm not – "

"I know sometimes," she said, "when people feel the kind of things we feel, it can be a bit frightening. But there's no need to be scared because we're in it together." Remus suspected that the expression on his face was saying that he thought it was something to be very afraid of indeed, but before he could say anything to that effect, she carried on. "And you're very good with actions – and everybody knows they speak louder than words."

"Am I?"

"Well you came to wish me goodnight, didn't you? That's really very sweet."

"You – er – you asked me to."

"Yes, I know," she said, beaming, "and you did."

Before he could say anything – or ask her what one earth she was talking about, she pinned him to the wall and kissed him eagerly. He responded with a rather lack-lustre kiss, but that didn't stop Heather from sliding her hands down between them. He managed to arrest their progress just below his belt, before they ventured anywhere more worrying.

"Heather – what – what are you doing?" he said, even though he knew exactly what she was doing. "We're in the middle of the corridor," he added, even though that was far from his primary objection.

"Do you want to go somewhere private, then?" she said, looking up at him hopefully. "I'm sure you know all the best places."

Remus was utterly torn. He knew that going somewhere private was risky – she'd read the situation wrong and start trying to do persuasive things to him, but on the other hand he had resolved to try and break up with her, and he didn't really want to do it in the corridor, if only because conjuring the necessary amount of 'Caution! Slippery Surface' signs would be hard work. "Ok," he said.

As soon as the cleaning supplies cupboard door closed behind them, Remus knew he'd made the wrong decision. She pinned him against it, and the knob pressed uncomfortably into his back. He tried to move away, but Heather seemed to interpret that as some hitherto unseen enthusiasm on his part and proceeded trying to undo his tie while she licked his neck. He backed away towards the shelves, catching his leg painfully on something that felt a bit like a metal bucket. Heather pursued him, trapping him and managing to get a couple of his buttons undone while he was wincing at the pain in his leg. "Heather," he said, raising his hands defensively between them and trying not to touch anything she'd see as encouragement. "Can't we just talk?"

"Talk?" she said. Through the darkness he thought he saw her blinking uncomprehendingly, and lit his wand to make sure.

"Mmm."

She settled her hands on her hips and glared at him. "What about?" she said. Remus' eyes roved the inside of the cupboard for a suitable topic.

"I don't know," he said feebly. "Anything."

As soon as the words left his lips he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Heather's eyes clouded and her glare intensified. "What's wrong with you?" she said. "Why would you drag your girlfriend into a cupboard if all you wanted to do was talk?"

"Drag..?" he stammered. "I didn't – you were the one who suggested – "

"So now you're trying to blame me? Like I'm some kind of desperate slapper?"

"No – "

"I mean what's wrong with you?" she said, her voice getting higher and more shrill by the second. "I know you're not a virgin. I know you slept with Lucidia – why don't you want to – "

"Look, Heather," Remus said, wondering vaguely if she was annoyed because she thought he wanted to sleep with her or because she thought he didn't, "we still don't know each other very – "

"From what I heard, you didn't know her very well either."

Remus gritted his teeth together. That was a fair point. "No, but – "

"Don't you think I'm as pretty as she is?"

"No," he said quickly. "It's not that."

"Then what?" she said, her voice wobbling under the tide of some emotion that he was surely about to drown in.

Remus frowned. This wasn't going exactly as he'd planned – although he wasn't sure why he'd ever thought for a moment that it would. Heather was nothing if not unpredictable. Her eyes brimmed with tears and her bottom lip trembled dangerously. "If you tell me you don't like me as much as you liked her I'll – "

"Sleeping with Lucidia was a mistake," he said, interrupting her before she had the chance to make one of her threats, because he wasn't sure he could bear to hear it. "I shouldn't have – "

"But sleeping with me won't be."

"No, it – "

"We love each other, don't we?"

"Erm – " He felt panic rise in his chest. Love? He didn't remember there being any mention of love before. Did she really..?

The thought felt oddly weighty and cold. She couldn't possibly _love_ him, could she?

"It's our destiny to be together, Remus, I can feel it," she said, nodding with an utter conviction he felt rather frightened by. He felt he should object, but he wasn't quite sure what he should say. He thought something about him not believing in destiny might be the way to go.

"Heather, I don't think – "

"It's fate, I know it is."

"I'm not sure – " Heather's eyes glittered dangerously when it became apparent that he wasn't about to leap in with a desperate proclamation of his own. Her jaw tightened.

"Why don't you want me?" she said. Her voice was deadly quiet, but it startled him as much as if she'd screamed.

"Look, Heather – it's not…."

Remus trailed off into a frown, utterly confused by the entire situation. His head was spinning. He really hadn't thought this through. He had no idea what to say and even less idea what to do.

He swallowed. It didn't help.

"Look, Heather," he said again, even though he still wasn't sure where he was going with it.

"I can't believe this," Heather wailed. "I knew you were too good to be true."

"What?"

"Are you still in love with her?"

Remus felt his eyes widen. "You are, aren't you?" she said. Then she wailed something that sounded a bit like 'don't be such a pathetic coward and just admit it', although he couldn't be sure because her voice was impossibly high-pitched and distorted with tears.

"Heather," he said, firmly, "I'm not in love with Lucidia."

He wondered if he should throw in a comment about not being in love with her either, but he didn't really have the nerve and she wasn't listening anyway. She flung the door open, stepped into the corridor and turned back to him, glowering so fiercely that he thought he actually felt himself shrink a couple of inches.

She took out her wand, drenched him in water so cold he gasped, and flounced off, calling "I expect you to make this up to me next weekend," over her shoulder at him.

Remus stood, staring disbelievingly at her retreating figure for a moment. Had that just really happened?

He shivered, quickly coming to the conclusion that yes, it really had, and banged his head on the cupboard door twice in quick succession. He couldn't believe it. Not only was he soaking to the skin and feeling guilty for something he hadn't even done – or for not doing something he was supposed to have done, he wasn't entirely sure which – she hadn't even broken up with him for it, and was still expecting him to take her to Hogsmeade. He took a moment to wring the worst of the cold water out of his shirt sleeves, and then stepped out of the cupboard, right into the path of the very last person he wanted to see.

David sodding Reynolds.

"Needed a cold shower, did you?" he said, smirking. Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "So you're over that shy phase Olivia was always talking about, then?"

Remus balled his fists at his sides and tingled with rage, glaring at David sodding Reynolds for all he was worth and desperately battling the urge to hit him. "Oh sod off," he said, and stomped away down the corridor with as much dignity as he could manage with his feet squelching.

Well that was it, he thought. He couldn't take any more. Something had to be done. And plainly he wasn't up to the task – it was too much for him to deal with on his own.

Really, there was only one man for the job.

He found Sirius in the corner of the common room, idly flicking through a book that didn't appear to have anything to do with school work if the pictures were anything to go by. "I need to talk to you," he said.

"What about?" Sirius said, frowning at the pages he was turning. Then he looked up and took in Remus' bedraggled appearance, and his eyes widened. "Bloody hell, Moony! Did you fall into the lake or something?"

Remus clenched his jaw and Sirius sniggered. "What d'you do to Heather, then?" he asked, closing the book and tossing it aside.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said tersely.

Remus ignored Sirius' titter and took out his wand, casting a drying charm on his shoes and then slowly making his way up his trouser legs. When he reached his knees, he took a deep breath, knowing he'd never hear the last of this. "I need your advice," he said.

"I'd say you did," Sirius said. "On any particular subject, or..?"

"I need your advice," Remus said, closing his eyes at the very thought of the words he was about to utter, "on how to break up with a girl."

"How to break up with a girl," Sirius said, raising an eyebrow at him, "or how to break up with Heather?"

"Is there a difference?" Remus said, his tone increasingly annoyed, although he couldn't blame Sirius for wanting to string it out. He knew that had their positions been reversed, he would have found it desperately amusing. Sirius rocked back in his chair and let out a disbelieving chortle.

"Oh yes," he said. Remus rolled his eyes.

"Then it's Heather."

"You've got no chance," Sirius said. "You'd be better off just doing as she says."

"I can't," he said.

"You should."

"I don't want to."

Sirius sniggered. "All right," he said, "but it won't be pretty. You have been warned."

"I'll take my chances," Remus said. "I mean how much worse can it get? I'm already a nervous wreck – and soaked to my sodding skin," he muttered.

Sirius offered him a rather disbelieving, knowing smile. "You haven't seen the full wrath of Heather yet," he said. Remus opened his mouth to protest, gesturing vaguely at his sopping hair. "You think you have, but you haven't. I'm sure breaking up with her will put an end to that."

"But you managed it."

"And barely made it out alive," Sirius said dramatically. "Sometimes I still have nightmares about it."

"Why?" Remus said warily. "What did she do to you?"

Sirius smiled, and gestured for Remus to sit, which he did. Sirius perched on the edge of the sofa arm and leant forward with the air of a man telling a gruesome fairytale to a bunch of tiny children. "Well, let's start at the beginning, shall we?" he said. "I tried to break up with her the easy way first," he said. "I tried giving her the old 'it's not you, it's me' speech, and I tried telling her I wanted to concentrate on school – obviously she saw through that one straight away. I even tried cheating on her, but she just thought she'd pushed me into it because I was scared of the intensity of my feelings for her."

"You cheated on her?" Remus said. "When did you – who with?"

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I mean – I didn't mean to – we just ran into each other."

"Who?" Remus said, suspicions well and truly raised along with an eyebrow. It wasn't like Sirius to keep any details to himself, let alone be this cagey about anything. Which could only mean one thing. It was someone Remus liked.

"We were just talking – she wanted to know if you were really all right. Lovely girl."

That sealed it. "You kissed Elsa?"

Sirius pressed his lips together briefly, then offered him a small nod. "You're incorrigible," Remus said. Sirius' face lit up.

"Thank you."

"It's not a compliment."

Remus crossed his arms, although he didn't really know why he was bothering. He could never be annoyed with Sirius for long, and Sirius knew it. "Am I ever going to get to have a girlfriend you haven't kissed?" he said.

"Only if you can find one I'm related to," Sirius said, grinning.

Remus rolled his eyes, and Sirius' face fell a little. "You're not angry, are you, Moony?" he said, his eyes taking on a rather imploring quality. "I mean you had broken up, and it was your decision – "

"No, I'm not angry," Remus said. "I knew you'd kissed her. I just didn't know when."

"Oh," Sirius said, smiling tentatively.

Remus watched the fire crackle in the corner of the common room for a moment, and then went back to wand-drying his sleeves. "It didn't work, though," Remus said, trying to put them back on topic and more even ground, "cheating on Heather?"

He wasn't sure why he was even asking – it wasn't as if girls were lined up around the room trying to tempt him to cheat on Heather with them.

"No," Sirius said. "She thought my confession about the whole thing was sweet. I really should have listened to you when you said she was nuts."

"Hmm," Remus murmured, thinking that if he'd listened to himself when he'd said she was nuts, he probably wouldn't be in this mess. "So how did you..?"

"Extract myself from the claws of Heather?" Sirius offered, folding his arms across his chest. "Wasn't easy."

"No?"

"Well you know what she's like – it's like you're speaking the words, but she's hearing something else entirely."

"Hmm," Remus muttered ruefully. "I have noticed that."

"So in the end, I just had to tell it to her straight – you can't sugar-coat things with Heather – I made that mistake a few times, starting out telling her I thought she was a nice girl and all that stuff – but it just gives her false hope, you know? Something to argue against. You've got to be firm."

"What did you say?"

Sirius looked a little bit uneasy – in fact, Remus thought, with one notable exception concerning a discussion they'd had about a rather ill-advised prank around the time of the full moon, he'd never seen Sirius look less at home in his own skin. Sirius swallowed. "I said 'look, Heather, I can't stand this any more. I know you like me, but I think you have no redeeming features whatsoever, and I'd rather die than be with you'." Sirius' brow creased into a rather impressive deep frown. "In retrospect," he said, "that wasn't the cleverest thing I could have said."

"Why?" Remus said tentatively.

"Well first," Sirius said, dramatically, "she cast an incarcerous spell and chained herself to me."

Remus felt his face fall, and was pretty sure that his brain had gone numb. He swallowed. "Right," he said tonelessly.

"Then she said if I'd rather die, then I could die – and that's when she threatened to throw us both off the Astronomy Tower so we could be together for all eternity in death if not life – so that's your first lesson," he said, illustrating with a point of his finger, "breaking up with Heather should only be attempted at ground-level."

"I'm sure that'll be – " Remus swallowed as he struggled for the word " – useful."

He swallowed again, even though it was doing nothing to lessen the vice-like grip panic had on his stomach. "I said that I was a useless waste of space, a loser who really wasn't worth her time of day, let alone losing her life over, and she seemed to like that," Sirius said, his face brightening for a moment, before the frown returned. "At least I thought she did. Then she set my hair on fire."

"Oh."

"So that's your second lesson," he said. "You might want to brush up on your aguamenti."

Remus smiled. He'd had plenty of practise at that during fourth year when Sirius and James had taken to practising heating spells late at night on each other's pillows, with predictably inflammatory consequences. "Ok," Remus said. "But after that she – you know – accepted things?"

"Well she ran away crying," Sirius said, "if that counts. She spent a week trying to get me to go back out with her – so, you know, you'll have to try not to let her corner you – and when I refused, well, that's when her nutter friends started trip-jinxing me every time they saw me," Sirius said. "Eventually I managed to get out of one of them what I was supposed to have done – you know, apart from the obvious – and apparently, she'd been telling people that I was 'denying her her right to love' and had 'crushed her idea of soul mates forever' or something."

Remus swallowed as panic's vice-like grip moved up to his throat. "So she tied you together, threatened to kill you, set your hair on fire and then cried for weeks and told everyone it was because you were denying her her right to be with her soul mate," he said numbly.

"Yeah," Sirius mused. "And she didn't even like me very much."

"Oh bloody hell," Remus mumbled.

He sank back into the sofa and put his head in his hands, pressing his palms into his forehead. How on earth did he get himself into situations like this?

"What's up?"

James' voice startled him a little, and Remus peered at him through the gap between his hand and his hair. He winced, unable to find the words to adequately explain his dilemma. "Remus is breaking up with Heather," Sirius said.

"Oh," Peter said, a look of vague awe on his face. James' face crumpled in sympathy.

"Good luck, mate," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "How are you going to – you know, do it?"

"No idea," he replied. "I think I'm just going to have to tell her straight and not let her emotionally blackmail me. And then – I don't know – just take whatever hexes she wants to throw at me, I suppose. I don't really see I've got any other choice."

And it wasn't as if he hadn't had a fair amount of practice with hexes, he thought. He doubted that Heather had anything in her arsenal to rival James or Sirius.

Peter cast a furtive look around the room and bent closer, lowering his voice. "You know," he said, "you could always tell her you're a werewolf." James and Sirius shot him an appalled look and Peter raised his hands defensively, face colouring a little around the edges. "It's just that – " he stammered, "well, you always used to say you couldn't imagine many girls sticking around once you told them that."

Remus nodded, smiling reassuringly. He knew Peter was only trying to help. "I could," he said. "Of course, knowing my luck, she'll be the only girl in the world who doesn't mind. She'd probably ask me to bite her just so we can turn into some ridiculous romantic notion she has about being a pair of outcasts."

"That's a damn good point," Sirius said. "She always said she felt we had a connection because she knows what it's like to be estranged from your family."

"Estranged from her family?" Remus said incredulously. "She writes to them twice a week. She made me – "

He stopped himself, thinking that his friends probably didn't need to know about the time she'd made him kiss the letter she was sending home so a little bit of him would accompany her words. Luckily, no-one seemed to be listening to him. "She told me she hadn't spoken to them in years, that she always spends the holidays with her friends," Sirius said to James.

"She's nuts," James said, shaking his head.

"Too right," Peter concurred.

It really did seem the popular opinion.

"You know, if you get really desperate," James said, "we could always fake your death."

"Fake my death?" Remus said incredulously. Even given the direness of the situation, he thought that was a bit drastic.

"Excellent suggestion!" Sirius said. "She can hardly make you be with her if you're dead and buried."

"We could claim you'd had some kind of accident – " James said eagerly.

"We could brew the Draught of Living Death – "

"And then we could do something quite gruesome with your body –

"Because we'd have to be convincing – "

"I'm pretty certain I saw this temporary be-heading charm once," James said. "French witches and wizards used it during the Revolution to avoid actual beheadings – although I think I'd want to practice on something first – you know, just in case."

"I'm sure Wormtail would be only too happy to offer his neck for such a noble cause," Sirius said, clapping a rather ashen-faced Peter on the back.

"Or maybe there's a head re-attaching charm. I might ask Lily…."

"I really don't think Lily would appreciate – " Remus started, even though no-one was listening.

"Can't we just break his legs or something?" Peter said, fingering his throat rather nervously. "Or claim he got some kind of disease?"

"No," Sirius said. "This is Heather. We need to do it right or she'll see straight through it."

"Although," James said, tapping his chin with his index finger, "a disease isn't a bad idea – I mean no offence, mate, but you're so weak and kitteny-looking, I don't think anyone would be surprised if it turned out you'd had something fatal."

Remus felt mildly affronted, even though he knew it was true. "We'd read you something nice at the funeral," Sirius said, rather too eagerly. "Any preference?"

"What?" Remus said. "Now I've got to plan my own funeral?"

"Well it needs to be convincing – I mean you're very well liked, for some reason," Sirius said. "Be a bit odd if we didn't give our best mate, struck down in the prime of his life, a proper send off. We'll keep it tasteful."

"Tasteful?"

"Well me and Prongs always said we wanted dancing girls and maybe a rock band at ours – "

"But I suppose you'd want us to play some of that dreary werewolf music instead," James said. "What's that Joni Mitchell track you really like?"

"River."

"That's it. We'll play that."

"It's not really very funeral-y," Remus said, not really knowing why he was protesting.

"Doesn't matter," Sirius said. "It's not as if anyone'll be able to hear it over Heather's crying."

"Your parents might be a problem," James mused. "I mean we'd have to invite them – "

"My parents?"

"Mmm."

"You always said your dad was all right," Sirius said. "They might go for it."

"Oh yes," Remus said, rolling his eyes, "I'm sure my parents would think attending the pretend funeral of their only son was a right laugh."

"It's not an insurmountable problem," James said. "We could claim you were estranged, or, something."

"This is ridiculous," Remus said, rather unnecessarily. "So I fake my own death, you all throw me a pretend funeral, and then what? Won't Heather think it's a bit suspicious when I show up the next day right as rain?"

James frowned and glanced at Sirius, who shrugged. "We'll smuggle you in," he said eventually. "I'll lend you the cloak – or we could Disillusion you – "

"Or we could brew some Polyjuice Potion," Sirius said. "We could take it in turns for you to be us, with the added bonus that we get to skive lessons."

"That would be cool," Peter said.

"But you're not allowed to kiss Lily," James said, pointing at him. Remus bit back the urge to say 'why not? it's about time someone did', and instead held up his hand for quiet, his eyes wide with a mixture of horror and awe that his friends could so quickly come up with a plan for something so complicated and unseemly.

"I'm not going to fake my own death," he said. James and Sirius' faces sank, although Peter looked distinctly relieved. "I'm just going to bite the bullet and tell her I don't really like her."

"Good job we know what kind of funeral you want, then," Sirius muttered.

Remus glowered at Sirius half-heartedly, and then decided a change of subject might be advisable. He met James' eye. "Lily told me you're going out tomorrow," he said, and James grinned sheepishly. Sirius clapped James on the back and said something about him filling his boots up, and Peter sniggered.

"What did she say?" James asked, meeting Remus' eye and ignoring the others.

"Just that she was really looking forward to it," Remus said. He half-thought he should stay out of it, but the rest of him thought that if he could just get James to see how much Lily liked him, things might move a little faster.

"Really?"

"Of course," Remus said. "I told you she wouldn't be able to resist the Potter charm forever."

James grinned and ruffled his hair compulsively. "I think she's really coming round," he said, and Remus smiled.

"Of course she is," Sirius said, rolling his eyes behind James' back.

Remus spent the next two days avoiding Heather, dividing the time he didn't want to spend in the common room between the Goblin poetry section of the library, because no-one in their right mind would venture in there, and the prefects' bathroom, where she wasn't allowed.

He was just heading in there to get some peace and quiet away from a riotous Gryffindor gobstones match when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped, spinning round with his hands raised defensively just in case it was Heather. But the redhead he found was slightly less frizzy-haired and nowhere near as frightening. "Hello," he said, and Lily made a vague excited squeak and shoved him through the door, bolting it firmly behind them.

"James kissed me last night," she said, rather loudly. It echoed off the marble and she clamped both hands over her mouth, but even that couldn't disguise the very obvious fact that she was beaming.

"Really?"

"Yes," she said, bobbing up and down on her toes.

"Properly?"

"Yes," she said, and as if she couldn't contain her excitement any longer, she threw herself into his arms and hugged him. Remus found himself a little surprised by her eager affection, but only for a second, and he lifted her off her feet and span her round. She giggled as he set her back down again.

"That's great," he said.

"Isn't it?" she said.

"I knew he'd get around to it eventually."

"Well I'm glad you were right."

Remus gestured to the pile of towels in the corner, and Lily nodded, so he summoned a couple and they both sank down onto the floor. "So," he said. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I think if I don't I'll burst," she said, and he grinned.

"Go on, then."

"Well," she said, "it was perfect."

Her eyes were wide and sparkling, and she talked quickly and with more animation than she normally did. "We went down to the lake and we were talking about what the giant squid does at night – you know, does it sleep or does it have a whole family of little baby giant squids to tend to that keep it up at night? And he was making me laugh, doing all these funny voices and stuff," she said, waving distractedly at the room. "And then we sat down, and he asked me if I was cold, and I said yes, even though I wasn't," she said, leaning towards him conspiratorially, "and he cast a warming charm on my cloak, and then he put his arm around me…." She trailed off, lost in the memory. Remus watched her as he battled a giggle for a moment, and then gave her a little nudge with his shoulder to remind her he was there, and raised an eyebrow at her in question. She swallowed, and then glanced up at the ceiling. "And then – I don't know, it was like slow motion, or something – like he was looking at me for ages – and it should have felt uncomfortable, but it didn't…. And then he leaned forward and kissed me. And it was…." She pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes, letting out a long sigh. She met his eye, still beaming. "Did you ever have one of those kisses," she said, leaning forward, "where it feels like you're taking off?"

He smiled and nodded. He had had kisses like that, although not especially recently. "And you feel like you're floating?" she went on. "And it's all unreal, but just real enough and just…amazing, because you know it's really happening, even though it kind of feels like a dream?"

He nodded again. "Well, it was like that, and then he asked me if it was all right that he'd done it, which was just…." She trailed off and rolled her eyes delightedly again. "And I said of course, that I'd been waiting for him to do it for ages, and then he got this really dopey look on his face…."

She giggled at the thought, and Remus couldn't help joining in, because he'd seen James' Lily-related dopey expression on a number of occasions, and it was well worth laughing at. "And when he walked me back to the common room, he did it again," she said. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I know I said I was getting a bit worried about it, but I think he was just waiting for the right moment, wanting everything to be perfect – which is pretty nice, really, when you think about it."

Remus wondered how James would react if he knew what kind of conversation he and Lily were having, and he couldn't help thinking that half the school would be seriously scandalised at the thought of James Potter, ultimate romantic. But he thought it was…. He wasn't sure James would thank him for using the word 'sweet' in conjunction with him, but that's what he thought it was, and he liked the thought of at least one of his friends falling in love like you were supposed to, since he was making such a hash of it and Sirius was about as interested in the idea of falling in love as he was in the idea of actually studying for his NEWTs.

Remus rummaged in his pocket and took out the chocolate bar he'd stuffed in there earlier. He snapped off a piece and offered it to her. "What's this for?" she said, taking it.

"I bought it for you," he said. "In case, you know, things didn't go the way you wanted. But now I suppose we can eat it to celebrate."

"Thanks," she said. He snapped a piece off for himself and raised it at her.

"Here's to you and James, and all the broom cupboards that eagerly await having you snog in them."

"Cheers," she said, knocking her piece of chocolate against his, chuckling as she popped it in her mouth. Remus ate his slowly, wondering if he'd ever get things right romantically, or if he was doomed to disaster after disaster forever.

It wasn't a particularly comforting thought, but he supposed that really, though, he needed to find a way to break up with Heather before he started worrying about that.

"You know," Lily said, considering him for a moment, raising her eyebrows at him and smiling softly, "nutty Heather's got one thing right."

"Has she?" he said. "What's that thing they say about even a stopped clock telling the right time once a day?" Lily laughed. "What is it, then?" he said. "The thing she's got right?"

"You _are_ a sweetheart," she said quietly, and he grinned.

"Am I?"

"You bought me chocolate," she said, "and you listened to me whinge about one of your best mates and never said a word to him, and you won't break up with a girl – even though she drives you crazy – because you don't want to hurt her feelings. I think that qualifies."

"I suppose that's something," he said morosely, snapping off some more chocolate.

"It's not something, Remus," Lily said, almost shyly. "To someone, it'll be everything."

Remus sat, eating his chocolate, and desperately hoping she was right.

* * *

**A/N: Many, many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Anyone who reviews this one gets to help Remus out of his wet clothes…. ;) **


	8. Hattie Partridge

Remus threw himself down on the sofa, surveying the scene in front of him with barely concealed distaste. There were people everywhere: clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it, kissing like they invented it, drinking as if there might really be no tomorrow. Which, he thought morosely, there may well not be.

Since the Death Eaters and Voldemort had stepped up their attacks, he'd found himself invited to a lot of parties. He didn't really understand it, but he normally found himself being dragged along anyway, and it made a change from funerals. He supposed that people liked to remind themselves that they were still alive in whatever way they could, at least get a sniff of what real life was like in case the next day it was too late. He didn't really understand that either, why more of them wouldn't stand up and fight instead of getting off their faces and eloping, but he didn't really feel like being judgemental tonight. For one thing, it would have been utterly hypocritical.

He was in the middle of a war, part of a secret organisation, doing desperately dangerous things to fight for what he thought was right, and what was he depressed about? The fact that they appeared to be losing? The fact that every new day brought tales of the grim deaths of people he knew, people he'd been to school with, people he cared about?

No, he was depressed about the fact that the girl he loved didn't even know how he felt, and wouldn't care if she did, because she was marrying someone else.

"Cheer up, mate," Sirius said, throwing himself down next to him and poking him in the ribs.

"No."

"Are you still smarting over – "

"Yes," Remus said, cutting him off before he had the chance to say her name. He wasn't entirely sure he'd ever be able to hear it again, even though the name he'd given Sirius wasn't the girl's name at all.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Do you want to talk about something else to take your mind off it?"

"No."

"You just want to sit there and be miserable?"

"Yes."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"No."

"Are you going to do it anyway?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to say anything tonight that isn't a one word answer?"

"Probably not."

In spite of himself, Remus smiled, and Sirius grinned. "That's better."

Remus shifted in his seat, pulling a cushion out from behind him and cradling it in his lap, despising the momentary cheerfulness that had filled him. "I'm not sure this was a very good idea," he said. "I'm not exactly in the party mood."

"Trust me, this is the best place for you at the moment."

"How do you work that out?" Remus said as a couple flopped down next to him and started pawing at each other's clothes. He shot them a look of disgust and abruptly stood up, tossing the cushion onto the sofa and grimacing as they rolled onto it with something approaching lustful abandon. Sirius followed his example, although he stood up with rather less disgust, and they both leant against the wall, surveying what Remus supposed was Sirius' lounge – it was quite hard to tell, what with all the empty bottles. "I'm surrounded by people doing that – " Remus said, waving angrily at the couple " – and being happy. It's like being constantly reminded of what I'll never have. I'm surprised I haven't choked on my own bile."

Sirius grabbed a bottle of clear liquid from the table next to them and poured Remus a large measure of whatever it was, handing it to him and gesturing for him to drink. Remus peered into the glass, and, coming to the conclusion that it could be anything, sniffed it. He didn't recognise the smell, but downed it anyway, thinking that things couldn't possibly get any worse. Sirius poured him another one.

"You just need to get her out of your system," he said.

"I suppose you're going to suggest attempting to replace my blood with Firewhiskey?" he said. "Or whatever the hell this is." He lifted his glass to the light, still none the wiser, and knocked it back anyway.

"Be a start," Sirius said. "Then you need to shag someone else."

"Shag someone else?"

"Yep," Sirius beamed. "The only way to get over a girl is to get over – or under, whatever's your preference – another one."

Remus was far too miserable to even summon the energy to shoot Sirius the appalled look he would normally shoot him for uttering something so crass. "And you'd know that because..?" he said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I've been in love," Sirius said defensively.

"When?"

Sirius' brow creased as he thought, hard. Remus could practically feel the vibrations in the air. "That's not the point," he said, eventually, frowning and then dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand.

"Anyway, it's rather a moot argument, isn't it?" Remus said. "It's not as if girls are queuing up to sleep with me."

"Maybe they would be if you cheered up a bit," Sirius muttered, reaching for a handful of pumpkin crisps and shovelling them into his mouth. Remus glared at him, although it was a little half-hearted. "I mean it could be worse," Sirius said, swallowing with difficulty.

"How? How could it be worse?"

"You could still be with Heather."

Remus glared, entirely not half-heartedly, and Sirius sniggered. Somehow, and Remus wasn't entirely sure how, 'You could still be with Heather' had become a running joke amongst his friends, a yardstick by which the direness of any situation could be judged, to be used whenever things were going spectacularly belly-up – Sirius had even used it when they'd been outnumbered in a fight with the Death Eaters and had barely escaped with their lives. "It's been nearly a year," Remus said, with a resigned sigh. "When are you going to let me live that down?"

"Oh come on," Sirius said. "That was the most amusing break-up of all time. I'm not likely to let it slide in this life-time, maybe not even in the next."

Remus sighed again, having always suspected that that was the case, and Sirius grinned. "Thank you for your understanding," he said.

"Look, mate," Sirius said, "if you don't want people to laugh at you for breaking up with girls by telling them you'd rather gargle troll snot than be with them, then you'd really better not break up with girls by telling them you'd rather gargle troll snot than be with them."

"I'll bear that in mind," Remus said. Not that he really anticipated having to break up with a girl at any point in the immediate future…..

"I mean really, troll snot?" Sirius said incredulously. "How old are you?"

"It was all I could think of at the time," Remus said, huffily, folding his arms across his chest. He supposed he couldn't begrudge people amusement at his expense, although he couldn't really see the funny side himself at the moment. "Where's Peter, anyway?" he said, deciding to change the subject.

"Dunno," Sirius said. "Last I saw he was throwing up in the kitchen."

"Is he all right?"

"Suppose," Sirius said, shrugging with airy unconcern. "I told him not to try and drink Flora Metcalf under the table – I mean she's twice his size. I don't know what he was thinking." Remus hummed vaguely. "Shame James couldn't make it." Remus hummed even more vaguely. "Not that it's a huge surprise," Sirius said, "what with Yoko bloody Ono monopolising his time."

Sirius poured out two substantial measures of the mysterious clear liquid, handing one to Remus and nonchalantly taking a sip from the other. Then he abandoned his nonchalance and coughed violently. "Hell, Moony," he said, grimacing and scraping his tongue with the back of his hand. "This is foul! Why didn't you warn me?"

"It's not that bad," Remus said, sighing as he rolled his eyes.

"Not – not that bad?" Sirius stammered, aghast. "It's the worst thing I've ever had in my mouth – and considering some of the things Padfoot likes to lick, that's saying something."

He grimaced again, more dramatically, and then his eyes roved the room. "I need something to take the taste away," he murmured. Remus followed his eyes – which had obviously decided the buffet table wasn't an option – as they settled on two girls standing across the room near the fireplace, who were giggling and quite obviously staring right back at him. "They'll do," he said brightly, twitching his eyebrows. Remus rolled his eyes.

"Sirius – "

"No arguments," Sirius said, clasping his shoulder. "It'll be fun."

"It won't," Remus said, trying to squirm out from underneath Sirius' surprisingly firm grip.

"Have I ever let you down before?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "All right," Sirius muttered. "I don't need to hear a list of examples. But, really, mate, wouldn't you rather be miserable over there with a pretty girl flirting with you than miserable over here all alone?"

Remus rolled his eyes again. He really wasn't sure that he would rather, but Sirius didn't seem in the mood to brook any argument, and he wasn't sure he had the energy to offer much resistance anyway.

He let Sirius drag him over to where the girls were standing, and made appropriately interested sounds as they flirted with his friend, and a couple of stabs at polite conversation, pretending to be interested.

Then he decided he'd had enough pretending to be interested, pretending to be cheerful, pretending to be anything other than a hollow shell of a man with a gaping hole in his chest where his heart should be, and trudged off to Sirius's spare bedroom to mope until the party was over.

It wasn't as if anyone would miss him, he thought glumly.

Remus closed the door behind him, shutting out everything but the muffled sounds that life was going on without him, and didn't even bother to do anything about the darkness. He liked it. It was fitting.

He slid down the wall and rested his head on his hand, his elbow on his knee.

He let out a long sigh, which even to his ears sounded excessively weary.

Remus had always thought that being in love was supposed to be, well, for the want of a better word, enjoyable. Nerve-wracking and terrifying for sure, but an enjoyable kind of nerve-wracking and terrifying. But as he sat on the floor, staring at the carpet, he just felt awful – horrified with himself for showing such poor judgement, appalling timing and stupidity.

He downed his drink, hoping that it would help; knowing that it wouldn't.

He felt sick every time he thought of her – and not a good, amusing, happy kind of sick – the sickness of anticipation or nerves. No, this was the kind of sick he normally reserved for when he'd seen or heard about something vile, a kind of sinking, distressed feeling, as if the world would never feel right beneath his feet ever again.

He called himself a pathetic melodramatic bastard, and ruefully stared at the empty glass in his hand.

He just needed to get over her. That was all.

Get over her – get over _it_ – he thought. I just need to get over it.

He idly wondered whether if he just sat here and decided he was over it, he would be. I'm over it, he thought, as cheerfully as he could muster. Completely and utterly over it.

For a moment the knot he'd had in his chest for weeks loosened, and he thought it had worked, but then he thought of the way she'd smiled at him the last time he'd seen her, and the knot was back again with a vengeance, twisting his insides, caging his heart, squeezing every cheerful thought out of him as effectively as any Dementor. And the way she laughed…. He ached.

He wasn't over it.

He staggered to his feet, and went in search of something else to drink.

Two hours later, Remus found himself sitting in exactly the same spot, with the room in slightly fuzzier focus. Everything still seemed far too real, though. He lifted his glass to his lips, having forgotten that he'd drained it a minute ago. Should have brought the bottle, he thought miserably.

He rested his head on the wall behind him and closed his eyes, hoping fruitlessly that unconsciousness would take him, even though he knew he hadn't had that much to drink.

The door opened and he gazed over to the doorway, ready to shoot whichever snogging couple were about to stagger into the room a filthy look to kill their mood.

It wasn't a couple, though. It was a girl.

Her eyes settled on him and she raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Too much to drink?" she said.

"Exactly the opposite, actually," he said. "Not nearly enough to drink."

"Oh," she said, crossing the room and dangling a bottle of Firewhiskey in front of him. "Maybe I can help with that."

He wondered if she was an angel. A dark-haired angel, with Firewhiskey. She laughed. Apparently he'd said the last bit out loud.

She slid down the wall next to him and offered him the bottle. He took it, unscrewed the lid and poured himself a large glass, and then handed it back, offering her a slight smile of thanks. The dark-haired angel with Firewhiskey took the bottle, raised it to her lips, and took a large gulp, before dropping it into her lap.

Remus sipped his drink gratefully, thinking that he probably owed her a conversation, at least, in return, and that really, since sitting alone in a darkened room wasn't making him feel any better, he might as well try something else. "So," he said, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. It wasn't much, but enough to be polite, he thought. "What are you doing hiding in here?"

"Nothing," she said. "Just got bored of watching my friend grope some guy because she thinks he's from a good family and he'll offer to marry the kind of girl he'd grope at a party."

"Is his name Sirius?" Remus said.

"I don't think so," she said. "Why?"

"Nothing," he said, stifling a drunken laugh with difficulty, "just if it is, you should get out there and tell your friend she's wasting her time. She'd be lucky if he was still interested in an hour's time, let alone anything involving the words 'til death us do part'."

"I think everybody knows that about Sirius Black, don't they?" she said, and Remus smiled. Even out of the confines of Hogwarts, Sirius had a reputation that tended to precede him. "He knows how to throw a party, though," she said.

"Hmm."

They were quiet for a while, until she swigged from the bottle and turned towards him slightly. "You don't remember me, do you?" she said, and Remus squinted at her in consideration, taking in her dark, shiny hair and her small, curvy mouth.

"Er, no. Sorry," he said. "Should I?"

"Not especially, I suppose," she said. "You were in the year above me at school."

"Was I?"

"I'm Hattie," she said, offering him her hand.

"Oh. Remus," he said, taking it and giving it a quick shake. "Although I suppose if you recognised me," he said, frowning a little at himself, even though his forehead felt unnaturally heavy, "you knew that."

"Yes," she said, laughing.

"Sorry."

Remus stared at his feet until he felt her shift next to him, move a little closer, knocking his shoulder with hers as she curled her feet underneath her and rested on the hand she had by his thigh. "You were a prefect, weren't you?" she said, toying with the Firewhiskey label.

"Hmm."

Hattie offered him the bottle again and he took it, pouring himself another large measure and cradling the glass in his lap as he stretched his legs out in front of him.

A thought occurred to him, and he leaned towards her a little and let it out of his mouth before it was even fully formed. "I suppose I should be setting a better example," he said, and she laughed. It was quite a pretty, girly, laugh he thought.

"You docked me five points for being out of bed with a boy, once," she said, grinning at him and pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Did I?" he said.

"Yeah," she said. "You and that redhead girl. You caught us snogging in the corridor outside the kitchens."

"Well, my apologies," he said, running a hand over his face. "I assure you that it was entirely hypocritical."

"Did a lot of snogging in corridors when you weren't on duty, did you?"

Remus rubbed at his chin distractedly, smiling slightly. "Not so much in corridors," he said.

"Where, then?" Hattie said, taking the bottle back. He watched as she drank, and she dribbled a little on her lower lip.

Remus wondered whether Sirius was right, that if all he needed to do to get over one girl was to sleep with another one, and if, maybe….

He told himself not to be ridiculous.

To listen to Sirius you'd think any girl was just there for the taking – all you had to do was pick the one you wanted and go for it. Of course, that was easy for Sirius to say.

He, of course, was slightly hampered by the fact that he was a) nowhere near as good-looking as Sirius, b) nowhere near as good at this kind of thing.

He vaguely remembered Hattie asking him a question, and forced his brain to remember what it was instead of thinking ridiculous things about how inviting that curvy mouth looked and if she might taste of Firewhiskey.

"Generally I favoured the old broom cupboard approach," he said, looking away.

"Traditional," she said softly.

"Indeed," he said, and his eyes flickered back to hers entirely of their own accord. "And thank you for saying traditional and not clichéd."

He shifted a bit closer, letting his hand drop down next to hers on the carpet and his fingers just touch hers – almost as if he'd done it by accident. She didn't move her hand away, which he couldn't help thinking was a good sign.

Or it would be, were he looking for signs. Which he wasn't. Probably.

Hattie moved her hand slightly, nudging his fingers with hers as they pressed a little closer, and he looked up and smiled. He didn't really know what he was doing. Did he just want to flirt with her to cheer himself up, assure himself that there were girls out there who might be interested? Or did he want more than that?

He wondered if he was doing whatever it was that he was doing just to see if he could.

"Did a fair bit of broom cupboard-hogging myself," she said.

"Really?" he said, and she grinned. "Tell me more."

"Let's just say my parents had a few owls about my inappropriate behaviour," she said, "mostly to do with things that occurred in that broom cupboard in the entrance hall."

"Ah," he said, "you see, that was your first mistake – sticking to one location."

"Really?" she said. "So where should I have gone?"

Remus grinned. "I don't claim to be an expert," he said, raising his glass to his lips and taking a large swig of his drink.

"How many owls did your parents get?"

"None."

"So you _are_ an expert, then," she said, and he smiled slightly, biting his lip a little.

"I did have one memorable experience in the library, and one very memorable one at the top of the Astronomy Tower," he said. "And there was a very useful broom cupboard on the fourth floor."

"So you snogged your way around the entire school, then?"

"Something like that."

Hattie shot him a look of playful disapproval. "And I always thought you seemed like such a nice boy," she said, her voice low and teasing.

"Yes, well," he said. "appearances can be deceptive."

"Can they?"

He twitched his eyebrows at her, and she laughed. She tucked her hair behind her ear and bit her lip as she peered at him through the darkness. "How about in spare rooms at parties?" she said.

"Oh, well, that would be a first," he said. He drained his glass and set it down next to him, and she raised an eyebrow at him as she offered him the bottle again.

He took it, but rather than pouring himself a glass he took a large swig from the bottle before handing it back to her. She smiled and raised it to her lips, looking at him as if they'd made some kind of decision, although he wasn't completely sure what it was.

"So, Remus Lupin, erstwhile prefect," she said. "Why so glum?"

"Guess."

Hattie sat back against the wall and considered him for a moment, although he didn't fail to notice that she hadn't moved her hand and her fingers were still touching his. "Did someone you know die?" she said. "I don't want to be flippant if you're really upset."

"Not this week," he said dryly, gesturing for her to give him the bottle, which she did. "Be as flippant as you like."

He took a long swig and winced slightly at the way his throat burned as he swallowed. "Is your pet ill?" she said.

"No."

"Did your friends forget your birthday?"

"No."

"Get dumped?"

"No."

She thought about it for a moment, squinting at him through the darkness. "Catch your elbow on something?" she said. "Because however you look at it, it's never funny."

Remus laughed. "No," he said, shaking his head, and Hattie hummed in consideration for a moment.

"Did you have an argument with someone?"

"No."

There was a long pause, and Remus slowly inched his thumb over her fingers, touching them so lightly he could barely feel it. "Just see your girlfriend getting off with someone else?" Hattie asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He looked away, trying not to give in to the urge to smirk at the thought that she was interested in whether or not he was attached.

"I haven't got a girlfriend," he said, voice lilting with amusement.

"Good."

He met her eye, and wondered what would happen if he said the flirtatious thing that was right on the tip of his tongue. "Why do you think it's good that I don't have a girlfriend?" he asked, unable to resist the urge to find out, or the smile he felt forming on his lips. Hattie dropped her chin and peered up at him through her eyelashes.

"Why do you think?"

"Maybe you're mean," he said slowly, through a smile. "Maybe you like to revel in other people's misery."

"Maybe," she said. "That would certainly be one explanation."

"Is there another one?"

"Mmm," Hattie hummed, shifting closer, her eyes roving his face. "I'm glad you don't have a girlfriend because if you did, she'd probably mind if I did this…." She steadied his face with her hand, and then closed the insubstantial distance between them and pressed those inviting, curvy lips to his. "And I always was crap at duelling," she said, smiling as she pulled away.

"Lucky for you I'm single and miserable, then," Remus said, unable to resist a small chuckle.

"Well I'm glad you're single, but why _are_ you so miserable?" she said, squinting at him a bit in consideration.

"Maybe I just don't like parties," he said.

"You're having fun at this one, though, aren't you?"

Remus smiled slightly and looked down at his knees. "I wasn't," he said.

"No? How about now?"

"Getting there."

"Getting there?" she said quietly, and as he looked up she gave him a rather sparkling smile. She shifted, sliding onto his lap and resting her knees either side of his hips, taking his face in her hands as she pressed her body closer. "Well, I think we can do better than that," she said, and covered his lips with hers.

As Remus kissed her he knew it was a bad idea, that no good would come of it, and yet, there seemed to be a rather significant portion of him that didn't care.

* * *

Remus raised a shaking hand to his forehead and held it firmly against his skull, thinking that he needed to press the two halves of it back together. He couldn't think of any other reason why his head would be hurting so much. 

For a moment he contented himself with that, but then it slowly occurred to him that if something had happened to split his head in two, he'd probably remember it. Probably not a near-fatal wound, then, he thought. Just a hangover. He wasn't entirely sure which was worse.

Idiot, he thought.

But at least he hadn't done anything really stup–

Something – no, _someone_ – moved next to him.

Remus winced. That meant he wasn't alone.

And worse, he didn't have any clothes on.

Hell.

He screwed his eyes tightly closed and desperately tried to remember what had happened, and then as some choice images came back, wished that he hadn't.

Oh good going, he thought. You've gone from being in love with someone you can never have to being in love with someone you can never have and naked in bed with someone you don't even like very much. _Fantastic_.

Sirius Black, he thought, if I make it out of this alive, I am going to kill you.

And even if I don't, I'm going to come back and haunt you for the rest of your days.

He swallowed and turned his head a little to look at the girl he'd apparently decided to drown his sorrows with, and then winced, mentally calling himself a pillock.

What had he been thinking? What was it he thought this would achieve?

The girl next to him shifted and her eyes flickered open.

"Hello," he said sheepishly, clutching the sheet a little too tightly.

"Morning."

"Hattie," he said, trying the name out for size; hoping he was right.

"You remember my name," she said, giving him a lazy smile. "That's a good start."

"Do you remember mine?"

"Of course," she said. "You're Remus. You were a prefect."

"Hmm," he said. "I really have set the most atrocious example."

"I wouldn't say that," she said as she slid closer, her hand snaking under the sheet and coming the rest on his chest.

"Erm – " he started. He stopped when he realised that he had no idea – absolutely _no_ idea – in fact, _less _than no idea – how to extract himself from this situation.

However, him extracting himself from the situation seemed to be the very last thing on Hattie's mind. She kissed his neck slowly and then moved upwards, nibbling his ear lobe.

He reminded himself that the reason he was here – the reason he was in bed with this girl was that he was a) a gigantic fool who had listened to someone who he had no business listening to, b) he couldn't really hold his drink, and c) he was in love with someone else, and that no good – absolutely _no_ good was going to come of Hattie nibbling his ear lobe.

What on earth was he going to –

Of course when he said no good was going to come of it, he meant other than the pleasant sensations that she was – if memory served correctly – very good at producing. She really was tracing the most distracting pattern on his chest. He looked at her uncertainly, and she gave him a broad grin.

Her hand moved lower, and lower, and lower. He half-heartedly pleaded with his body not to respond.

It wasn't listening.

Oh. Bloody. Hell.

* * *

Remus sat in Sirius' kitchen with his head on the table, staring at the yellow lino and wondering what pattern it was supposed to be. Sirius was making him a cup of tea, and making far too much noise about it. He let out a low groan, as much at the clinking of two mugs together as an image that suddenly appeared from nowhere of Hattie kissing him goodbye rather happily. 

Merlin, his head was pounding. He wondered if it was because he was bouncing it off the table.

What had he been thinking?

Sirius set a mug down quite close to his head with a thunk, and reluctantly, Remus pushed himself upright. "What _is_ wrong with you?" Sirius said, his voice heavy with irritation as he sank into the chair opposite. "You're supposed to be whistling, a spring in your step."

"Well I'm not."

"Did you not enjoy yourself?" Sirius said, and Remus felt his jaw tighten. "Sounded like you were having a whale of a time," he added, with a quick scoff, before he took a swig of his tea.

"You were listening?" Remus said, horrified.

"No, I wasn't listening," Sirius said, letting his mouth fall open in a rather good impression of Remus' horrified expression before he looked away. "I _overheard_. There's a difference," he said, shrugging.

"How could you hear anything over the racket you were playing last night?"

They hadn't been _that_ loud, Remus thought. He was suddenly gripped by an entirely new kind of embarrassment and panic. Had they?

"Not last night," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "This morning." Sirius leant back in his chair and let out a rather undignified snigger. "She sounded like she was having fun at least."

Remus bit the inside of his cheek. "Oh sod off," he said, reaching for his mug and taking a sip.

"Why? What – "

"This is all your fault," Remus said, before Sirius could get any further or his studiedly innocent expression could get any more so.

"How is this my fault?"

"Because you said the way to get over a girl was to shag another one."

"Since when do you listen to me?" Sirius said, raising an eyebrow.

"Since I couldn't think of any better ideas," Remus said, thinking that, given the circumstances, he should have paid closer attention to what Sirius had said about breaking up with a girl without using the words 'troll snot'. "And now, thanks to you, I've got to go out with her, and then break up with her, so please, do me a favour and _sod right off_."

Remus sulked into his mug, hating Sirius for making such nice tea when he wanted a reason to be angry with him. "Why do you have to go out with her?" Sirius said, voice edged with confusion that was echoed by his expression when Remus looked up.

"Because I shagged her. At least twice."

Sirius' lip twitched in amusement. "What do you mean _at least_?" he said.

"What do you think I mean?" Remus said irritably, and realisation dawned in Sirius' eyes, quickly followed by glee.

"You can't remember what you did, can you?" he said. Remus avoided his eyes, crossing his arms defensively across his chest.

"Not entirely," he muttered, and Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter that made Remus' head ring. "It's not funny."

"Au contraire," Sirius said, rocking back in his chair and laughing uproariously. "It's bloody hilarious."

"It's not," Remus said tersely. He really didn't like the idea that he couldn't remember exactly what he'd done the night before, especially given that what he could remember was…. He thought he had too many memories for it to have just been twice – most of his memories from the night before were on the floor, and yet there were a couple of bed-related memories that he certainly hadn't picked up that morning as well.

He dropped his head and banged it on the table again.

It didn't help.

Neither did Sirius' continued laughter.

He stared at the lino, wondering if it was supposed to be a pattern at all.

This was just like Susan Dixon all over again. He couldn't have the girl he actually wanted, and so he'd just found someone else willing. Was he really like that?

When he looked up, Sirius was wiping tears from his eyes. "Well, Moony," he said, "you've done it again. James is going to laugh his head off when I tell him about this."

"Oh well as long as you all get a good giggle out of it," Remus muttered.

"Oh come on," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "All you did was have a couple too many and sleep with a girl. And she looked quite nice – I mean I only saw her from the back, but – "

Sirius stopped when Remus glared at him, and shrank back into the chair a little. "That is so far from being the point that you and it are in fact on different continents," he said.

"Why is it not the point?" Sirius said. "Would you rather have woken up next to someone hideous? I mean once I woke up next to this girl with a huge hairy wart on her chin – I mean how I didn't notice beforehand I'll never know, but – " Remus intensified his glare and Sirius trailed off. "Why do you have to go out with her again?" he said, shifting in his seat and having evidently decided that the wart story wasn't a winner.

"Because I said I would."

"Why did you say you'd go out with her if you don't want to?"

"Because – " Remus started.

"Ah," Sirius said, smiling knowingly at him. "Because you didn't want her to think that you just slept with her because she was there."

Remus opened his mouth to say something, but Sirius interrupted him. "Even though that's the truth," he added, and Remus glowered, even though it _was_ the truth and they both knew it.

"I just don't want her to feel bad," he said.

"That's bollocks," Sirius said. "It's got nothing to do with how she feels. You don't want her to think badly _of you_."

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but all of a sudden he couldn't think of anything to say. "What I can't figure out," Sirius said, "is why you care what some girl – who you probably never would have seen again if you hadn't agreed to go out with her – thinks about you."

Remus shifted in his chair, feeling his skin prickle under the weight of Sirius' appraising gaze. "I mean you don't see me getting my knickers in a knot about stuff like that," Sirius continued when it became apparent that Remus wasn't going to offer an explanation.

"It's different," Remus said.

"Why?"

"Because you don't care," he said. "You don't care what people think of you. I do."

"But why?"

Remus squirmed in his seat, but he knew Sirius wouldn't leave it. "Maybe I've got enough people thinking badly of me already," he said quietly, fiddling with the handle on his mug, "just because of what I am. I don't need to add to the numbers."

"Oh."

They were quiet for a moment, until Sirius reached for his mug and it screeched as he dragged it towards him. "Still," Sirius said, "you don't have to fall in love with every girl who wants you to, you know."

"I know."

"Do you?"

Remus suddenly felt the bile rise in his chest. He gripped his mug tighter. "It's not as if I want to go out with a girl just because I got drunk and listened to your stupid advice and ended up in bed with her," he spat. "It's not like this is all part of some great plan to screw up my life at every available opportunity just for the hell of it. I want to fall in love – and do it – for once – with someone who has at least an outside chance of liking me back. I want that, and I can't have it, and – "

Remus stopped when Sirius raised his hands defensively, eyeing him as if he wasn't entirely sure what to make of his outburst. Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Sorry," he muttered into his mug.

"Why can't you have that?" Sirius said quietly.

"Because she's – "

The words he had been about to say froze on his tongue. "Not interested," he said croakily. "I can't have that because she's not interested."

Sirius' brow dipped for a moment and he peered at Remus across the table quizzically, as if he knew he was lying. Remus looked away, and Sirius seemed to shrug off the thought, and got to his feet. "Come on," Sirius said, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him out of the chair. "Wallowing isn't going to do you any good."

"What – where are we..?"

"To see James."

"No – look, I really think I'd rather be on my own."

Sirius didn't listen to his protests, instead shoving him into the fireplace and shouting the name of the very last place Remus wanted to go into the flames as he covered him liberally with Floo Powder.

Before he had time to even adjust to the sensation of travelling by Floo, Remus appeared, coughing and spluttering, in the grate of James' kitchen, and a rather startled Lily looked up from the table. "Remus?" she said.

Remus stumbled out of the fireplace, clinging to the wall for support, unable to understand why the room was still spinning when he had stopped. He tried to force out the word 'morning', but it wouldn't come. He took a few staggering steps towards the table, clinging to the back of one of the chairs for support as a whoosh behind him told him Sirius had appeared in the fireplace. He wondered if he'd feel better if he sat down, and experimentally tried it. Lily peered at him inquisitively. "You look like hell," she said.

"Thanks."

James appeared in the doorway, and grinned as he strode towards them. "Wondered when you two would show up," he said, and Sirius waved vaguely and helped himself to an apple from the fruit bowl on the table. James rested his hands lightly on Lily's shoulders and nodded in Remus' direction. "Good party, then?" he said, and as Sirius launched into a blow-by-blow account of the evening's antics and James made appropriate noises, Remus collapsed onto the table, groaning lightly to himself.

"Are you all right?" Lily said.

"No," he murmured. "I want to die."

Lily sniggered. "Could be worse," she said. "You could still be with Heather."

Remus groaned. For the first time ever, it wasn't true. He'd found a new yardstick. Still being with Heather – horrific as that would have been – was not, by any stretch of the imagination, worse than this.

* * *

**A/N: Three cheers for everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and anyone who reviews this one gets to try and soothe poor Remus' hangover in whatever way they see fit ;). **


	9. Lily Potter

Remus had been staring at the parchment in front of him for so long that he was barely sure it even existed any more.

That's not good, he thought, existential thoughts before midnight. He rubbed his aching eyes and yawned, wondering whether to give up and try and get some sleep or to keep ploughing through it and sleep-in in the morning.

Giving up seemed the better option. It wasn't as if he was really concentrating anyway. He'd only really had two thoughts in his head for months – how very much in love with Lily he was, and how he could never, ever, do anything about it. Even admitting it to himself felt like treachery.

Nine years, he thought. Nine bloody years you've known her, and you don't even realise you're in love with her until she marries your best friend.

Terrific. Wonderful. Bloody _marvellous_.

Idiot.

He turned back to the parchment, but the words didn't seem to make any more sense than they had previously.

He'd even – it was his – if he hadn't interfered….

He stopped himself. There was no point going over it, again. He'd wasted enough nights as it was, sitting there calling himself all the names he could think of for doing something as stupid as setting James and Lily up, wondering what would have happened if he hadn't. Would they have gotten together anyway? Would something else have happened? Something with him –

He sat back in his chair and tossed his quill onto the desk as if it was the feather's fault and not his for not seeing sooner what was evidently right under his nose. While he'd obsessed about Olivia, and felt guilty about Susan, and awful about Elsa, and ashamed about Lucidia and just plain relieved to be rid of Heather, who had been the one girl he turned to, the one girl who always cheered him up, made him laugh, made him feel everything?

Rain clattered against the window, and Remus let out a huff of approval and folded his arms across his chest. At least for once the weather fit his mood. It had been howling a gale all night and now the rain was beating a comfortingly depressing rhythm on the window. He'd realised long ago that there was nothing worse than being depressed in summertime, when the sunshine shone with vindictive chipperness into his eyes and clouds skittered gleefully across the sky, just to tell him – as if he didn't already know – that the world was full of happy people, and he wasn't one of them. Depressed in the winter was much better, he thought, when the cold in his heart was echoed by the lack of rising mercury in the thermometer on his desk, and the clouds were low and grumpy, frowning along with him. It seemed especially important that the weather fit his mood tonight, when it was all his own stupid fault.

He couldn't believe – after all the time he and Lily had spent together – that he hadn't realised how he felt. But he hadn't, not until he'd run into her, completely unexpectedly, a couple of weeks before she was getting married. She'd been in a hurry – torn between too many commitments, but she'd stopped to talk to him anyway. Her cheeks were pink and her hair was everywhere and she'd laughed at some stupid joke he made, and he'd thought she looked beautiful. Beyond beautiful. _Staggering_, was the word he'd thought of, at the time.

And it had hit him, then, just like being slapped in the face by a bus – a bus with the words 'You Love Lily Evans' scrawled across the side in giant neon letters, and Bitterness, Despair and No Good Will Come Of This as the destination.

Over the next few months the bus had also called in at Maudlin Drunkenness, Surly Crotchetiness, Listening To Depressing Music and Sleeping With Some Girl To Try And Get Over It, but none of it had worked. Not even a little bit. The closest thing he'd felt to a momentary reprieve was the two or so minutes he'd spent unconscious on the ground in Diagon Alley after Hattie Partridge's brother had caught up with him and knocked him out.

Aside from that, it had been torture. He'd swung from being angry with himself to feeling guilty about what he felt, closing his eyes and wishing his feelings would disappear the second he opened them. But they never did, and the guilt and despair and bitterness had formed a knot in his chest that nothing seemed to dislodge. Remus had tried to reason with himself, to tell himself that if he really loved Lily then all he'd want was for her to be happy, and that if her being happy meant being with James, then he should be pleased for her. He knew that.

He really had tried, desperately, to convince himself that that was the case, but sometimes there was a nagging voice in his head that chimed in with 'you know, this is all your fault. If you'd realised sooner how you felt….'

Could he have done that to James? He liked to think not, but somehow he suspected otherwise. The knot in his chest tightened.

Remus stood, staring at his drinks collection.

There seemed to be only two options: red wine, or Firewhiskey, both of them Christmas gifts from people in the Order.

Firewhiskey was the quicker option, of course, but he wasn't sure he was in the mood for quick tonight. The slow, maudlin slide into drunkenness that would accompany a bottle of red wine was possibly more fitting his melancholy mood.

He was saved from making the decision by a loud knock at the door.

He glanced at the clock and frowned, wondering who'd be coming to visit past ten. He crossed the room, pulling his wand out of his pocket, his heart beating madly in his chest. Outside the wind howled, which made him jump and shoot red sparks unintentionally out of the end of his wand. He told himself to get a grip, turned into the thin hallway and shouted "Who's there?" at the thick oak door, tightening his grip on his wand even as he reminded himself that Death Eaters didn't normally knock.

"It's me," came the reply. "Lily."

Remus scrambled to undo all the charms on the door and wrenched it open. Lily stood shivering on the doorstep in the pouring rain, her hair plastered to her head, her robes pulled tightly around her. He reached forward, closed his fingers tightly around her arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her and re-sealing the charms as quickly as he could. "What's wrong?" he said, barely able to control his voice and hide the panic in it. "Has something happened to James? To Sirius – or Peter? To anyone?"

He hated that these days whenever anyone turned up unexpectedly he suspected that something awful had happened to someone he loved, but he supposed that was only natural when every day brought news of someone meeting their untimely death at the hands of the Death Eaters or Voldemort. Lily shook her head and droplets of water fell onto the carpet, turning the pale green dark.

She smiled, and he was staggered. "Nothing's wrong," she said. "Just thought I'd drop in."

Remus let out the breath he'd been holding as relief took its place in his body, and he resisted the twitch of his arm towards Lily's shoulders and steered her by her far more friendly and neutral elbow into the lounge and next to the fire.

"You just thought you'd drop in?" he said, incredulously, regarding her as sternly as he could when he was trying to disguise how grateful he was that she wasn't the bearer of bad news. "It's dangerous. If you wanted to see me, you should have owled me. I'd have come to you."

"I appreciate the attempt at chivalry, but I can look after myself," Lily said, taking out her wand and waving it over herself until a drying spell floated around her.

"I know, but –

"You all like to feel manly occasionally," she muttered, drying the last of the moisture from the hem of her skirt.

Remus suppressed a smile. He knew Lily was as capable of looking after herself as he was, if not more so. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"James said you had girl trouble," she said. "And I hadn't seen you for ages, and I didn't have anything else to do tonight, so…."

Remus wondered if fate hated him, if he'd done something, somehow, to piss it off.

This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. The girl he was secretly in love with couldn't be here, in his living room, asking him about the girl he was secretly in love with. It was too cruel, too absurd, too hideously, comically horrific, even for his life. It was too much for it to be anything other than one, big, karmic joke. He hoped there was a deity somewhere having a good laugh at his expense.

"I'm not interrupting something, am I?" she said, glancing at papers scattered across the desk and completely misinterpreting his stunned silence.

"No," he said, shaking his head and trying his very best to pull himself together. "I was just staring into space and thinking about how I couldn't concentrate."

He gestured towards the sofa and Lily sank down, running her fingers through her hair to try and undo the damage done by the rain. Not that he thought she didn't look perfect as she was.

He swallowed. Thoughts like that were deeply unhelpful. "Do you want anything?" he said. "A cup of tea, or something?"

"Tea would be nice, actually," she said, and Remus offered her a faint smile and shuffled towards the kitchen.

As he pottered about making tea, he wondered how on earth he was going to handle this. He quickly came to the conclusion that he hadn't the faintest idea.

He'd avoided her – being alone with her, at least, because he couldn't really avoid seeing her at meetings, going out occasionally with her and his friends – for precisely this reason. She didn't know anything was wrong, and so she sat close, and chatted with him amiably, comfortably. She was friendly and warm and she made him laugh, just like she always had, but now every chuckle or smile or raised eyebrow that she elicited was like an icicle through his heart, a painful, stabbing reminder of what he'd never have.

As the kettle boiled, he shot furtive glances into the lounge, wondering if it was really her, sat on his threadbare brown velour sofa in his bay window, playing with her hair as a storm that was the perfect metaphor for his insides raged behind her.

It didn't seem real, and yet, all too real at the same time.

Remus busied himself with finding two mugs that weren't too chipped and wished he'd been a little quicker to decide on a Firewhiskey earlier.

The tea was made before he'd even come up with a vague plan for what he was going to do, and he shuffled back into the lounge, gripping the mugs desperately to keep from giving in to the urge to sprint out of the room, down the corridor and out into the rain to find somewhere to hide forever.

Offering her the handle of one of the mugs, he sat down next to Lily, wishing he had other seating options – but it was a small lounge, and apart from the desk and chair on the other side of the room, he didn't have anything else to sit on. He reasoned that if he sat there or on the floor, she'd get suspicious. They'd sat much closer than this in the past, for goodness sake.

He leant back, wrapping his fingers around the mug and trying to look like her presence didn't bother him at all. "How are you, anyway?" he said, as casually as he could muster, one foot longing to jiggle as an outlet for his rising tension. He checked the impulse, trying to seem calm and collected, in spite of everything.

"Alive," she said, raising an eyebrow at him, "which seems about the best any of us can hope for these days."

"Indeed," he said. "You know you really should have owled me. I'd have gladly – "

"Oh stop it," she said, rolling her eyes at him but grinning all the same. "I'm fine."

"What would James say if you'd been attacked and killed just because you wanted to pop in and see me?"

"Ah but if I _had_ been killed," she said, pointing at him for emphasis, "no-one would've known what I was doing, and you'd all, naturally, have jumped to the conclusion that I died doing something desperately heroic."

"Lily – "

"Besides," she said, no doubt guessing what his protest was about to be, "you make the best tea in England. Well worth the risk."

Remus let out an unwanted relenting sigh, and Lily kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet up underneath her, turning towards him. "Tell me about this girl, then," she said over the rim of her mug, her eyes dancing with curiosity. "What's she like?"

Remus sighed and studied the ceiling. What on earth was he supposed to say to that? "That good?" Lily said, laughing softly.

"Hmm."

"So what's the problem?"

"Firstly," he said, "she's not remotely interested and so far out of my league I think we're actually playing different sports."

"Really?"

"Oh yes," he said, blowing on his tea just to have something to do. He took a sip. "Secondly, she's married."

Lily's eyes widened and then she chuckled. "You do pick them," she said.

"Yes," he said, raising his eyes to the ceiling again. "I know."

"Anything else before I offer you my pearls of wisdom?" she said, her voice a low, wry tease.

"No," he said. "Isn't remotely interested, would never look at me twice, married to someone else – " Sitting on my sofa, interrogating me about it, he thought. " – I think that about covers it."

It really was a sorry state of affairs, he thought.

Lily hummed in consideration, resting her mug on her knee and peering at him with slightly narrowed eyes as the firelight danced across her face, and through her hair, turning the red to copper, the copper to gold. He tried not to stare, because he knew if he allowed his gaze to linger for too long, he'd be absolutely captivated. "Well, assuming you're wrong about the not remotely interested, would never look at you twice part – "

Remus frowned, utterly baffled. "Er, why are we assuming I'm wrong about that?" he said.

"Because you always are," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's part of your charm."

"I have charm now?" he said, raising an eyebrow and stifling the impulse to laugh out loud at the very suggestion.

"You're about a hundred times more appealing than you think you are," she said. "If not more."

"Right," he said. "So that puts me right up there with blisters in the desirability stakes."

Lily let out a frustrated sigh, and he was left with the impression that if she hadn't had a mug of tea precariously balanced, she'd have hit him. "Anyway," she said, "assuming you're wrong about that bit, what about a torrid affair?"

"I'm not sure she's the torrid affair type."

"Well that's a shame," she said.

"Hmm," Remus replied, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. He pleaded with his brain to forget what she'd just said, to wipe the thought from existence, because really, he couldn't stand for it to be in there somewhere, hovering in amongst his other thoughts, ready to pounce when his mind wasn't otherwise occupied.

"What about you? Are you the torrid affair type?" Lily said, her mouth hitching into a half-smile and letting him know that she thought she already knew the answer, she was just waiting for him to confirm her suspicions.

Remus scoffed. "Don't I need a wife first?" he said.

"No, I mean – with someone else's – "

"No," he said quickly. Possibly too quickly. "I don't think so."

Lily raised an eyebrow at him and considered him for just a moment. "Liar," she said, barely holding in her snigger. "You're _so_ the torrid affair type."

"What?" he said, his eyebrows leaping up to echo the surprise he felt.

"You don't want to think you are, but if you really liked someone and she was interested, you would. You'd hate yourself for it, but you would."

Remus bit his lip against a smile as the veracity of her words slowly dawned. It was true enough – or it would be, were the husband in question anyone but James. He half-heartedly wondered when she'd been paying close enough attention to him to learn how to see through him. "I'm not going to do anything like that," he said quietly, avoiding her eyes and watching reflections dance in his tea instead.

"Right. So what's your plan?"

"Extended moping," he said, letting out a slow sigh, "until I get over it."

"Well you've had plenty of practice," she said, nodding mock-sagely.

"Yes," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "I'm practically a world expert on the finer points of moping."

"You've got chocolate?"

"Yes."

"And alcohol?"

"Yes."

"And depressing music?"

"Yes," he said. "I bought something new specially."

"So you're all set, then?" she said, and he let out a quiet, nervous laugh.

"Yes," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Like I said, practically a world expert."

Remus took a long drink of tea, hoping for some kind of soothing feeling to sweep through his body. It didn't. He wondered whether if he'd forked out for a more expensive blend, it might have had more of the desired effect.

Extended moping. He rolled the thought around in his mind. It probably wasn't a bad plan. And it wasn't as if he had any better ideas. He'd tried Sirius' method, and all that had gotten him was a bruised jaw and a troubled conscience. "How long do you think it's going to take?" Lily said. "When do we get non-miserable Remus back?"

"Oh, he's still in here," Remus said, smiling slightly at the thought as he ran his fingertips over the rim of his mug, "should he be needed."

"Good," Lily said, "because I – "

Remus looked up from the chip on his mug he'd been toying with, and Lily shifted on the sofa a little uneasily, avoiding his eyes. "Lily?" he said. She glanced at him askance, her lips forming into the least convincing smile she'd ever offered him. "What's wrong?" he said quietly.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head vigorously and offering him a smile that was a touch more convincing, although not much. She leant forward and put her mug on the floor, frowning as she straightened up again. "Well…."

She trailed off, and Remus dropped his own mug onto the carpet and shifted closer, searching her face for clues as to what might be behind her unease. "Tell me," he said.

"I could just – well – if non-miserable Remus is in there," she said, gesturing vaguely at his chest, "I could kind of do with his advice about something."

"Oh," Remus said. "Ok. Fire away."

Lily swallowed, rather obviously, and then gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I don't quite know – " she started. "Did you ever have something happen – and – "

She stopped and frowned, frustrated, he thought, that she couldn't quite find the words. "What is it?" he said, his eyes searching hers entirely of their own accord for any clue as to what might be wrong. He found nothing in their infinite green he could identify but a spark of unspecified anxiety that he thought they probably all had these days.

"It's just that – " she said, and he raised his eyebrows encouragingly at her. "I'm – well, pregnant."

"What?"

Remus' eyebrows darted up in surprise. He ducked his head down to better meet her eye, his widening. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that. "I'm – we're – me and James. We're having a baby."

"Are you sure?"

"I did a test last week," she said, and then rolled her eyes, smiling nervously as her gaze came back to rest on his. "And then another eight tonight."

"Oh," he said, dully. He was pretty certain his brain was spinning. "Does James know?"

"No," she said. "He was supposed to come home tonight, and I was going to talk to him – but he sent me a message earlier to say he wasn't going to make it until tomorrow. And I was just sitting there on my own and I couldn't think straight and – I just had to tell someone. I couldn't think of anyone else…."

She offered him a tentative smile, looking up at him through a couple of loose strands of hair, her eyes roving his face, seeing what he made of it. Remus didn't really know what to do, but his arms bypassed his sluggish brain entirely, and pulled Lily into a hug. "Congratulations," he said as he felt her arms settle around his waist. He closed his eyes briefly as she tightened her hold and dropped her head onto his shoulder, not knowing whether it was to arrest his surprise or something else entirely, and then quickly opened them again when another thought occurred. "It is congratulations-type news, isn't it?" he added into her hair.

"I think so," she said, shifting just a little bit closer. "It wasn't – I mean, it's a bit of a surprise, but…."

"Well then that's wonderful," he said, squeezing her tighter, surprising himself at how much he actually meant it. A baby. He wanted to laugh. Lily let out an amused sigh, which he supposed was probably one of relief, and hugged him closer. "Congratulations," he said again, in a rather more heartfelt tone.

They sat like that for a moment, and then Lily shifted, turning her face into his neck. "What do you think he'll say?" she said to his jumper.

"He'll be delighted," Remus said softly, rubbing her back gently. "You know he will."

Lily pulled back far enough to look a him, and her eyes were sparkling with relief. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course," he said. "He loves you. Very much."

He smiled at her, and she smiled back, relaxing a little in his arms as she let out a breath of laughter. "Thanks," she said, and he grinned. It was nice to know he had his uses.

"Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?" Remus said, not really knowing where the question had come from.

"I – well," she said, and then rolled her eyes. "I know I'm supposed to say that I don't mind as long as the baby's healthy," she said, as she leant forward conspiratorially, biting her lip. "But a boy, I think."

"Another James Potter," he said. "The mind boggles."

"Indeed."

Lily nestled back against his shoulder for a moment, and Remus hugged her to him. "I'm really happy for you," he murmured. "For both of you. All three of you, I suppose."

When he pulled away, Lily was grinning. She settled back against the arm of the sofa, bending her knees and resting her feet between them. "We should – I don't know – toast, or something," he said, feeling as if they should do something to mark the occasion. He reached for his mug, and Lily turned and grabbed hers from the floor, holding it out to him. "To our new addition," Remus said, and Lily clinked her mug against his, and then took a sip. She grimaced.

"My tea's gone cold," she said.

"What a shame you're not a really powerful witch who can heat things with a spell that takes as little effort as blinking," he said, rolling his eyes at her with playful mockery, and she laughed. He handed her his mug. "Why don't you heat these up, and I'll get us some biscuits."

Remus got to his feet and went back into the kitchen, resting heavily on the work surface for a moment. He took a deep breath, trying to process everything. His brain was still spinning and his stomach lurched, although why, he wasn't quite sure. He was genuinely, genuinely pleased for Lily and James.

He wished he could vanish his feelings – or _obliviate_ himself so that he never knew they existed, forget that he'd ever had that staggering revelation in Diagon Alley – so he could just revel in some happy news properly, without feeling guilty for how he felt, without feeling the weight on his shoulders of trying to disguise what he felt, without worrying about how he couldn't bare it if anyone found out. The knot in his chest tightened at the thought, and he wanted to collapse – or scream – or cry – or do something big and dramatic to illustrate how he was feeling, how desperately he didn't want to be like _this_.

Of course he didn't do anything of the sort. He opened the cupboard door, moved the tea caddy aside, and selected an unopened packet of chocolate biscuits from the back of the shelf. Then he carefully closed the cupboard door, took a breath to steel himself, and went back into the lounge.

Lily looked up and smiled when she noticed what he was carrying, and he sat back down next to her, a little closer than he had been before. Lily handed him his mug of now steaming tea, and he cradled it between his knees as he opened the packet. "Well," he said, offering her a biscuit, "you don't do bombshells by halves, do you?"

Lily laughed as she struggled to free a biscuit. "Where'd be the fun in that?" she said, and then her eyes clouded with concern once more. "Do you really think – "

"He'll be over the moon," Remus said, pre-empting her question. Lily offered him a grateful smile, and then dunked her biscuit in her tea. "Where is he, anyway?" he asked, reaching for a biscuit of his own.

"Somewhere in Bulgaria with Sirius," Lily said, "investigating those whispers Dumbledore heard about Voldemort doing something with giants there."

"Oh," Remus said, swallowing half his biscuit, his brow furrowing in concern at whether or not he should be worried about their delayed return. "I don't know whether to hope they've found something or not."

"Well that makes two of us," Lily added, staring glumly at her skirt. Remus ate the rest of his biscuit and then let his hand fall onto the top of one of Lily's feet.

"I'm glad you decided to drop in," he said, rubbing it slightly. "It's nice to have some good news for a change." Lily smiled.

They chatted for a while about the Order, what they'd been doing, exchanged gossip about who they'd seen and what their news was – even talked about baby names. Lily wanted something simple, although Remus was half-convinced James would want something grand and stately. Ignacius Potter, or something.

Eventually, though, Lily's conversation got more and more interspersed with yawns, and she shot a frown at the window and the storm that was still clearly raging beyond the glass. "I suppose I should get going," she said, yawning into the back of her hand and eyeing the window with reluctance. Remus' forehead creased in a frown. He didn't like the thought of her being alone – or of her travelling alone when she had other things on her mind. Moody was always lecturing them on how half the witches and wizards he'd known die had lost their lives because they weren't being constantly vigilant, and apparently, the message had at last struck home. Remus couldn't bare the thought of something happening to Lily, especially not on his account.

"Why don't you stay here tonight?" he said. "I'll send James a message, tell him to pick you up here tomorrow."

"That sounds like a really good idea," she said, yawning. "And your sofa's pretty comfy."

"Which I daresay will be a great comfort to you when you're asleep in my bed."

"What?"

"What kind of man would I be if I let a woman – let alone a pregnant woman – sleep on the sofa?" Remus said, a little bit appalled, truth be told, that she hadn't anticipated his chivalry.

A slow smile swept across Lily's face. "You always were a sweetheart," she said, and Remus got to his feet, smiling to himself as he offered her his hand and pulled her up to join him. He showed Lily to his bedroom, casting a furtive eye round to assess what kind of state it was in and grateful that he'd at least attempted to make the bed that morning, if not clear the clutter from his bedside table.

He gestured to the aged oak chest of drawers on the other side of the room. "Help yourself to something to sleep in," he said. "Do you fancy a cocoa?"

Lily hummed her agreement, and Remus went downstairs, busying himself with making two mugs of cocoa to try, unsuccessfully, to take his mind off things, and when he returned, Lily was propped up in bed, thumbing through one of the books she'd found on his bedside table, wearing a pair of his stripy pyjamas. They were too big, and she'd had to roll the sleeves up a bit, and he sniggered when he saw her because she looked adorable, and not at all the fearsome girl who'd shouted at him so often for letting his friends get away with things he shouldn't have. She dropped the book back onto the pile and looked up at him, gesturing for him to come in. "Not to your taste?" he said, indicating the book she'd cast aside with a jerk of his head.

"Really, Remus," she said, "you're the only person who thinks an ancient book on advanced defensive magic is appropriate bedtime reading."

"Surely you didn't take me for a Mills & Boon man?" he said, placing one of the mugs down on the bedside table. Lily laughed.

"I suppose not," she said. "How do you know about Mills & Boon?"

"Heather used to read them."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Of course she did," she said. She reached for her mug and Remus leant against the doorframe, blowing on his cocoa and watching the skin that had formed on the top wrinkle. "We haven't done this for ages," Lily said.

"Done what?" he said, thinking that if she'd ever been in his bed before, he probably would have remembered it.

"Talked."

He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement, and took a sip of his cocoa, even though he knew it'd be too warm. "I know," he said, cursing himself for burning his tongue. "I've been – " He swallowed. "Busy."

"I've missed you."

Remus dipped his head, unable not to smile at the swell in his heart her words produced. "Well that's nice to hear," he said, glancing up at her through a few bits of stray fringe.

"I've had nobody to bring me chocolate and listen to me whinge…."

"I know," he said. "I've been shirking my duties."

"And what about you?" she said. "Seems you've made a right mess of things without me to hold your hand."

"Don't I always, though?" he said, ruefully. "You shouldn't blame yourself."

Lily laughed, and then set her cocoa back on the table. "I should let you get some rest," he said, turning to leave. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

"Remus?" Lily's voice was unexpectedly quiet, and wavered just a little, causing him to stop as abruptly as if she'd _Petrified_ him. "I'm scared," she said.

Remus turned back and went over to the bed, perching on the edge, just next to Lily's knee. He set his mug down next to hers, and met her eyes. They were alive with concern, and her mouth was tight and anxious, and his heart ached with wanting to make everything better for her. "Anybody would be," he said softly, nudging her knee with his in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"You think?"

He nodded, and Lily smiled tentatively. On impulse, Remus leaned forward. "You will be – " he said, placing a kiss on her forehead, " – wonderful. Any baby would be lucky to have you."

She smiled, fiddling with a loose thread on his pyjama top. "That's a really lovely thing to say," she said, glancing up at him.

"So I do have my uses after all?"

"That and the cocoa," she said, leaning back against the headboard. "You know, you're really talented with beverages."

"Thank you," he said. "Maybe when the war's over I'll move to a seaside town and open a café."

"What'll you call it?" she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Lupin's Tea and Sympathy Shop?"

"Maybe," he said, laughing. He reached for his mug and took a sip of his cocoa.

"Do you think about it much?"

"What?"

"After the war."

Lily looked up, smiling at him with wistful inquisitiveness. They didn't talk about it much, unless they were on duty somewhere and playing a game of hypothetical tonight, when they'd take it in turns to pick a pleasant scenario from a million places they'd rather be. It was an unspoken thing that they all agreed on, because they had so little cause to believe in happy endings. "Not too much," he said. "If I did I'd go mad."

Lily nodded. He wondered if he should tell her that one of the reasons he didn't think about the future much was that he wasn't entirely sure his fortunes would pick up if he did survive the war. "What about you?" he asked.

"No," she said, sighing. "God, could I have picked a worse time to get pregnant if I'd tried?"

Remus offered her half a smile and glanced up at her. "I'll give you that saddling a child with Sirius for an uncle seems a little foolhardy," he said, and Lily laughed.

"I suppose we'll need an uncle Remus to keep him in line, then," she said, and Remus' heart fluttered. He liked the sound of that.

"Well," he said, getting to his feet, "I really think it's time you tried to get some rest. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Remus offered Lily a faint smile, and then went downstairs.

He sank onto the sofa, not really knowing what to think. His mind was a cacophony of thoughts and his stomach lurched with feeling, but he forced himself to focus on practical things first and foremost. He took out his wand, closed his eyes and thought of his friends coming to find him in the hospital wing, telling him that they were still his mates even though he was a werewolf, and conjured his patronus.

He was unexpectedly pleased to see the shimmering shaggy dog. He wondered what the message should be for a moment, and then settled on:

_Prongs – _

_Don't panic, everything's fine. Lily fancied some company so she's staying at mine tonight – why don't you pick her up from here when you get back in the morning? Let me know if you can't make it back tomorrow and I'll make sure she gets home safely._

_Moony._

His patronus nodded, offering him a vague doggy-wink that seemed sympathetic to his plight, and then took off at a trot, loping through the lounge and out into the hall.

Remus settled back on the sofa and closed his eyes, longing for the release of sleep, but knowing that it was elusive at best.

After a while he got up and found himself once more staring at his drinks collection, only this time he made a swifter decision, reaching straight for the Firewhiskey and pouring himself a large glass. He took it back to the sofa and sat, cradling the drink in his lap and wondering what to make of the evening's events.

Things had changed, and he knew that his feelings were selfish, and really, truly, he just wanted rid of them.

He just needed to get over it. He'd always just needed to get over it.

Remus downed his Firewhiskey, deciding to try and get some sleep, hoping that the old adage that things always looked better in the morning would prove true. He curled up on the sofa, listening to the storm and wondering when it would pass.

* * *

Remus paced outside the bedroom door, desperately trying to summon the courage to knock. He'd been pacing for a few minutes, he thought, although it felt like an eternity. If he left it much longer, the mug of tea in his hands would be stone cold.

Did things look better? From here, it was hard to tell.

He told himself not to be ridiculous. He'd fought Death Eaters. He was a werewolf, for Merlin's sake. It was just a bloody door. He knocked softly, half-hoping she wouldn't hear him. "Lily?" he said. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," came the reply.

"Are you decent?"

"As I ever am," she said, and he chuckled at her reply and pushed the door open.

"I brought you some tea," he said, stepping into the room.

She smiled up at him from the bed, tossing the book she had been reading onto the pile on his bedside table. "You've got the most staggeringly depressing assortment of bedtime reading I've ever seen."

"Sorry," he said. "Not exactly been in the mood for anything light-hearted recently."

"I'll bet," she said. He handed her the mug, and she shuffled further away, patting the mattress beside her, indicating that he should sit. "Thanks."

Remus sank down beside her, perching on the very edge of the bed, thinking that he was so barely sitting on it he might as well have just not sat down at all. "Sleep well?" he said, trying against the odds to keep his voice light and casual.

"Hmm," she said. "Eventually."

"Eventually?"

"Hmm," she said. "I was thinking."

"Oh."

Lily didn't say anything for a moment, and then she nudged him lightly with her elbow. "You know," she said, "if I _was_ the torrid affair type, you'd be absolutely at the top of my list."

Remus looked up. He half-wondered if she was joking, making some crack about how nice his tea was, and he met her eye uncertainly, wondering if –

She held his gaze steadily, unflinching, and the raised eyebrow or quirk of her lips as she smiled in anticipation of him laughing never came. The look in her eyes – the glimmer of tentative understanding, compassion, even – was enough. She knew. She knew what he felt.

He felt a sudden jolt of panic, a sudden urge to run from the room, but as soon as it appeared it was gone. His heart gave a brief flutter, but oddly, he didn't feel anywhere near as awful as he thought he would.

"Really?" he said, surprised how steady his voice was. "Not Sirius?"

"Nah," she said, and her lips curved upwards, just a touch, as though she was relieved by what he'd said. "Maybe for one night I'd choose him, just to see what all the fuss is about, but for something more lasting and sneaky, it'd be you for certain."

It struck Remus that – aside from some of the more ribald conversations he'd been forced to have with Sirius, this may well be the most bizarre conversation he'd ever had. He felt compelled to continue it in much the same vein. "Why?"

"I think you'd be better at it," she said. "I think you'd be good at all the angst. The recrimination and all the 'we really shouldn't do this' declarations before we tear at each other's clothes like a couple of demented sixteen year olds."

"If this is your idea of making me feel better," Remus said, regarding her archly and slowly raising an eyebrow, "it could do with a little work. The last thing I need to be thinking about right now is you tearing at my clothes like a lusty teenager."

Lily laughed, and he did too, although he wasn't sure if he was laughing because he thought that what he'd said was funny, or laughing because she was laughing, or just laughing in relief because she wasn't hexing him to hell and back. "How long?" she said, and Remus took a deep breath.

"Do you remember when we ran into each other," he said, "outside The Leaky Cauldron?" Lily nodded. "Well, that's when I realised, but I think maybe a while before that. I was just too stupid to realise it."

Lily considered him for a moment, and then slowly raised one eyebrow at him. "I could swing for you, you know," she said, her voice lilting with amusement.

"Well why change the habit of a life-time?" he said, and she laughed, drawing her knees up underneath her and resting her elbows on them. "If you're going to, though," he said, "I'd prefer you went for my left side. The right's still a bit bruised from where Hattie Partridge's brother clocked me."

"I heard about that," she said. "What happened?"

"He hit me for seducing his little sister under false pretences," Remus said. "I never did find out if it was the seducing or the false pretences he objected to most. Too busy lying on the ground moaning."

"Seducing, Remus?"

"Yes," he said. "Apparently. I'd like to say I didn't, but to be honest I can't remember if I did or not, so…. It's all your fault anyway."

"How so?" she said.

"The moping wasn't helping, so I took Sirius' advice – "

"Don't tell me you actually listened to his 'the only way to get over a girl is to get under another one' speech?" she said, shooting him a look of acute disappointment.

Remus looked away, blushing slightly. "How do you know about that?" he said, his voice a little higher than usual.

"You think he didn't try it on James?" she said. "Only James wasn't daft enough to listen to him."

"No," Remus said. "Maybe that's because James knew he stood an outside chance. Why were you going to hit me anyway?" he added, before she could do anything more than blush slightly at his words.

"Just – " Lily frowned at him playfully, and then offered him a cheeky grin that lit up her face. "Do you have any idea how much I liked you when we were sixteen?"

"Really?"

Lily rolled her eyes at his evident surprise, and Remus purposefully lowered his eyebrows. "But of course you were too busy moping over Olivia and – what was his name?"

"David sodding Reynolds," Remus supplied petulantly, wondering why, after all this time, he still just couldn't call him David Reynolds.

"Yeah, him – to notice."

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to – "

"Be a boy about it?" she said.

"Yes," he said, laughing.

Remus studied his knees for a moment, thinking that this was still easily the most bizarre conversation he'd ever had. "I'm sorry about this, too," he said, spreading his hands as if that could encompass their situation. "I didn't really mean for you to find out."

"Then you probably shouldn't have started acting all weird and avoiding me," she said. "Dead give-away."

"Yes, well," he said, "this kind of thing, not exactly my strong suit. You might have noticed."

"You do seem to have a certain flair for self-destruction and picking the very worst girl at the very worst time."

"I know," he said. "I'm hoping I'll grow out of it."

"I'm not," she said. "What on earth will the rest of us find to talk about?"

"Glad I amuse."

Remus didn't know quite how it had happened, but everything had shifted. He still thought she was staggering, and he thought he probably always would, but something had changed. It was as if he could see something beyond what he had been seeing, something bigger – the whole picture, in which his feelings – his romantic feelings for her, at any rate – were less important than everything else. Less important than her friendship and her trust, and far less important than James'.

For a second he wanted to laugh. He felt ridiculous.

Was it really this easy? Were his feelings this easy to push aside?

Then he realised – that wasn't what he'd done at all. They were still there, and they probably would be indefinitely, but – he wasn't sure he could really put it into words or even particularly coherent thoughts, but on some level he understood how things were going to work from now on.

There were two Lilys in his mind – the one who he thought was staggering, the one who could knock all the breath out of him with a glance, the one he desired, the one who had hit him like a bus. And then there was the other one – the one who had come to ask him, of all people, for advice about the most important and frightening thing that had ever happened to her. The one who was his friend – more of a friend than he ever conceived of deserving – and the one who loved James, the one who was happy, deliriously happy, with James.

And somehow, the thought of having her in his life like this was just as thrilling as the thought of having her reciprocate his feelings, and he thought that that was something he would never forget, never trade, never regret, never risk for anything.

He smiled at the thought.

"How long have you known?" he said, surprised at how amused his voice sounded.

"About ten minutes," she said, and he laughed. "I was wondering about it last night, and then this morning when I heard you pacing outside…well, it just kind of clicked."

"I really am a romantic disaster area," he said, with a chuckle.

"If it's any consolation," she said, "you only have to get it right once."

"I suppose," he said. He leant back against the headboard, resting his head against the wood and glanced at her askance. "Do you think I ever will?"

"I know you will," she said, nudging him with her shoulder. "How could you not?"

They sat like that for a moment, savouring it, or something, and then Lily let out a soft sigh of laughter. "Have you got any chocolate?" she said. "I think we need chocolate."

Remus smiled. "As a matter of fact," he said, leaning over her legs to open the drawer in his other bedside cabinet. He pulled out a bar of Honeyduke's and sat back, offering it to her. She looked at it, the bedside table it had come from, and raised an eyebrow at him in question. "I eat it in bed sometimes," he said. "Not in a kinky way," he added, and then sniggered.

"Right," she said, laughing. She broke off a piece and dunked it in her tea, and then handed the rest of the bar back to him. He broke off a suitably large chunk and popped it in his mouth, letting it melt. As he settled back, Lily met his eye and held his gaze for a moment. "I meant it, you know," she said. "If I wasn't with James – "

"But you are," he said.

"I know."

"And you're happy," he said, rolling his eyes, "damn you."

She laughed. "I am. Sorry."

"I'm going to try –" he said. "I'm going to try and not make this too uncomfortable and weird. The last thing I want is for you to feel bad about this because it's my own fault. Entirely."

"Ok," she said. "I'll try not to – I don't know, make things worse – harder for you. I suppose soon I'll be all fat and covered in baby sick anyway," she said. "Then none of you will fancy me."

"Well there is that," Remus said, glancing mock-thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "Actually, thinking about it, I've gone right off you."

Lily reached for her pillow and whacked him with it. "James will," she said. "He's contractually obliged."

"I suppose," Remus said. "Good job he married you before you got yourself knocked up. And after that lecture you gave me about always being careful – "

Lily whacked him again with the pillow. "There were extenuating circumstances," she said.

"Really?"

"There were! We'd just – "

"Believe me when I say I don't want to know."

There were some things even he couldn't stand. Lily offered him a sheepish grin, and he looked away, trying desperately to resist the urge to grin, although he couldn't quite place the reason. He looked back to find Lily tilting her head to one side, her eyes fixed on his lips. "Do you want to – " She trailed off. "I mean we could…. Just once, to see – "

Remus shook his head. "How could I kiss you just once?" he said fixing his gaze on hers. "Unless I could kiss you once and make it last forever, I think I'd rather not know what I was missing." Lily took a quick inward breath and then giggled.

"Bloody hell, Remus," she said, eyes wide as she fanned herself with her hand. "That was a hell of a line."

He sniggered. "I know," he said. "I'm quite sorry to have wasted it on you. If I'd said that to any other girl I'd be having my clothes ripped off about now."

Lily leant back next to him, glancing at him cheekily. "I knew it," she said.

"Knew what?"

"Nothing," she said, looking away, smiling to herself. "You know all this is kind of your fault. One of the main reasons I decided to give James a chance was that you thought he was all right."

"Thank you," he said. "That's very helpful. Comforting, you know. That's not going to torment me _at all_."

Lily giggled and elbowed him in the ribs. He dodged her second attack with the finesse of someone who'd had a lot of practice, and her face softened a little as they settled. "You will meet someone," she said. "Eventually."

"You sound pretty certain," Remus said quietly, because she did, far more certain than he was, at any rate.

"I am," she said, with playful smugness. "I can see the future."

He rested his head on the top of the headboard and turned towards her, resting one knee on the bed. "Really?" he said. "What's it look like?"

"Well," she said, pausing for a moment to study the ceiling while she thought. "We're all together at some house in the country – somewhere in the middle of nowhere – like where your parents live, and it's a beautiful day, and the war is over, and we're having a party outside on the lawn for no reason, or because it's Sunday and it's a beautiful day and the birds are singing, or something."

"Sounds nice."

"You're there with this amazing girl. James keeps sneaking looks at her and thinks I don't notice, but I don't say anything because I always flirt outrageously with you and it'd be hypocritical. No-one can really understand how you got her. Except me, because I know you're a dark horse – and she's so in love with you even you can't believe it."

He grinned, utterly captivated by her fantasy. "What else?" he said. "What about you?"

"Well," she said. "I'm all fat and pregnant again, because me and James have decided we want enough children for our own Quidditch team, and even Peter's managed to get himself a girl – although James keeps teasing him about whether he's ever going to do anything other than hold her hand."

"Sirius?"

"Oh well, he arrives late on that stupid motorbike and scares all the birds away, and tells us all he's in love. And we all laugh at him because he says that at least twice a month. Then he gets all huffy because this time he really means it, and we all laugh again because that's what he always says. Then he tells us all to sod off and storms into the house to find something to drink."

"And everything's alright?"

"Yep. You all get good and drunk in the sunshine and I glare at you disapprovingly, and everybody's happy just because it's a beautiful day and we're there to enjoy it."

It was a glorious picture, he thought, and he wanted to believe it, and yet he couldn't. Not quite.

He'd never intended to tell Lily that he was a werewolf, because she was the one person in his life who he really couldn't bear to lose because of it, but suddenly, he felt that he should. He'd never intended to tell her he was in love with her, but that seemed to have gone all right.

"I don't think I'm ever going to have that," he said, staring fixedly at a worn patch on the duvet.

"Well you won't if you're going to be all negative about it."

"No, I mean – " He took a deep breath. "There's something I probably should have told you ages ago," he said. "I'll never have that because I'm a – "

"Pessimistic misery guts?"

"No – "

"Were you going to say werewolf?"

"What?"

Remus leant back in surprise. Being about to tell her was one thing. Having her guess was something else entirely. "Were you?" she asked, raising her eyebrow at him with such commanding inquisitiveness that he wanted to laugh.

"Oh well steal my thunder, why don't you," he said. "Did James..?"

"No," she said. "Figured it out for myself years ago."

"Really? When?"

"End of fifth year," she said. "I spotted a pattern in when you couldn't do your prefect stuff – and then one night I saw you heading out of the castle, and the next day you looked wrecked, and it had been a full moon, so…."

Remus didn't know what to think. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that she had figured it out, and yet he was. "Why didn't you say something?"

Lily glowered at him playfully. "I was waiting for _you_ to tell me," she said.

"Oh."

"Did you not wonder why I stopped shouting at you?"

"No," Remus said, sheepishly. "I was just grateful you had." Lily let out a breathy, knowing, chuckle. "I'm sorry I didn't get around to telling you sooner. I would've but – "

"It's all right," she said. "It's not like you could've just dropped it into conversation. 'Hey Lily, I'm a werewolf, pass the toast.'"

Remus smiled. "Listen," she said, dropping her hand onto his arm and giving it a slight squeeze. "If you ask me, you being a pessimistic misery is far more likely to stand in the way of you being happy than you being a werewolf."

"Well that's reassuring," he said, raising an eyebrow at her, "because I'm as likely to find a cure for me being a pessimistic misery guts as I am to find one for my furry little problem."

The retort Lily's eyes said she had planned died and she closed her mouth again, her forehead creasing in confusion. "Furry little problem?" she said, and Remus couldn't help but snigger a little.

"That's what James called it," he said.

"Oh," Lily said, eyes wide with sudden realisation. "That's what that is. I thought you had some of that African sprouting mould in your room, or something, because that's a bitch to get rid of."

Remus threw his head back and laughed until he was on the verge of tears. He didn't know if it was the lack of sleep, or the matter-of-factness and humour with which Lily had treated both of his biggest secrets, or the way she made him feel better about them both, but he couldn't help it. He laughed until his stomach ached and his eyes watered. In fact, he thought he probably would have laughed all day, had a voice not interrupted him.

"Moony?" James shouted. "Are you in?"

"I'm up here," Remus shouted, "in bed with your wife."

James started thundering up the stairs, and Remus stood up, brushing off his clothes and feeling lighter and happier than he'd felt in a very long time. "Tell him. He'll be over the moon," he said, and on impulse dropped a kiss onto the top of Lily's head.

"He'll faint," she replied, peering up at him through her hair.

"Then I'll get him a brandy," Remus said, and he gave her a reassuring smile as he passed James in the doorway. "Morning."

"Why do I need a brandy?" James said, his eyes switching rapidly between them. "You and him weren't really – "

Remus closed the door behind him, but could still just make out the sound of Lily hitting James round the head.

He went downstairs and found Sirius rooting through his cupboards, looking for something to eat.

"Morning," he said, and reached past Sirius for the brandy.

"Bit early to be drinking, isn't it, Moony?"

"It's for James."

"Why does James need a brandy?" Sirius said, helping himself to a handful of cornflakes straight from the packet.

Right on cue, James shouted: "A baby? We're having a – "

There was a resounding thud, and Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius and poured a brandy. Sirius gaped at him and dropped the cornflakes. "They're – she's – "

"Yes."

"Oh bloody hell," he said, grabbed the brandy, and downed it.

"Why are you – "

"It's just so awful," Sirius said, reaching for the bottle.

"I think a baby is normally considered the very opposite of awful, actually, Padfoot."

"No – I mean – " Sirius shot him an imploring look. "Ah hell, Moony," he said. "We're grown ups."

Remus raised his eyebrow at Sirius, taking in his shocked expression and the pile of cornflakes at his feet. "Well," he said, "some of us are."

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and I hope this one tickled your fancy. Anyone leaving a word about this one gets and early morning wake-up call from a werewolf bearing chocolate and a beverage of their choice ;). **


	10. Malina Dobrowski

Remus liked her instantly.

It surprised him to make such a snap decision about a girl's likeability, although he wasn't entirely sure why. These days he made snap decisions every day that were of far greater import – did he dodge left or right to avoid a Death Eater curse? Which spell should he use to extricate himself with all his limbs intact from a tricky fight? He made _actual_ life or death decisions on the spur of the moment all the time, and yet, liking this girl instantly had made his heart summersault with shock.

He supposed it was because, since the whole Lily debacle, he'd barely even noticed other girls existed.

It wasn't that he was still in love with Lily – it had been over a year since he'd told her how he felt, and they'd come to some kind of arrangement whereby his feelings for her were just another layer to their friendship. They both knew it was there, and on occasion it was a joke that they shared, but other than that they'd consigned it to some pile of givens – his feelings existed, but didn't warrant any real thought, or further explanation, or time spent discussing them.

So it wasn't that, but somehow, when it came to actually moving on to another girl, despite Sirius' constant nagging, James extolling the virtues of settling down at every turn, and Peter making recommendations of girls who he'd seen looking scared and possibly in need of a werewolf-shaped protector, Remus just hadn't been able to drum up the enthusiasm. Until now.

He'd noticed her the instant he'd stepped through the door to take his place for the meeting. She was new, and new faces tended to stand out, because they hadn't had a huge influx of new recruits for years. She had an interesting face – pretty, in her own way, with a nose that was slightly too big for the rest of her features and had a noticeable bump in it, as if it had been broken and fixed far too many times, and dark hair that poked out in a variety of directions from underneath a black beret which perched on her head at an unorthodox angle. The multi-coloured stripy jumper she was wearing completed the picture, and by the time he'd suppressed a chuckle at the thought that any girl who would wear such cheerful clothing in such dark times was his kind of girl, he was rather taken with her.

Throughout the meeting, he found himself unable to stop shooting glances in her direction, and a couple of times she almost met his gaze and he saw the faintest trace of a smile on her lips – although whether it was _for_ him or whether it was a nervous smile because he was making her uneasy by staring at her, he wasn't sure.

He frowned at the thought and turned away, trying to concentrate on what Dumbledore was saying about goblins, failing, and wondering if she'd hang around afterwards, and what he might say to her if she did.

An hour and a half later, Remus found himself in the Hog's Head, surrounded by various members of the Order. It was customary after meetings for some of them to head to the pub – a chance to toast the injured, or worse, and to steel themselves for the missions they'd just been assigned. The conversation was always peppered with regret, false bravado, discussion on politics and bile directed at those who ran in fear rather than standing up and fighting, but tonight Remus barely listened, let alone contributed.

The girl he was so taken with had – to the delight of the butterflies in his stomach – tagged along, and although he hadn't been able to get in quick enough with an offer to buy her a drink, he felt sure that sooner or later an opportunity to speak to her would arise. After all, there weren't that many of them and if she continued to make her way through the group, she'd get to him eventually. As he sipped his pint, he thought how nice it was to have something else – something normal – to think about, and as she looked up from the conversation she was having with Dedalus Diggle and met his eye with a cautious smile, the nervous tingle in his stomach flared.

He was vaguely aware that Sirius was bragging about some new hex he'd tried on a Death Eater who he'd come upon on his way to the meeting, but the story failed to hold his attention for very long, and Remus suspected Sirius was rather more telling it for the benefit of the girls clustered at his elbow than him. His eyes kept being drawn back to the girl in the stripy jumper. She was very animated – waving her arms in wild gestures in a way a lot of people – by the looks on their faces – seemed to find a bit perturbing. But he was captivated. He liked the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, and how her nose wrinkled when she laughed nervously, and especially how, just once or twice, her eyes had darted in his direction again. She seemed so very…alive.

He couldn't help wondering what it would be like to kiss her, if she'd make him feel alive too.

One by one, or two by two, people drifted off, with Dorcas Meadows and Sirius the last to leave, talking and giggling and walking far too close together, with Sirius' hand on her arse. Remus rolled his eyes at their retreating figures, and then looked up and met the new girl's eye in some silent acknowledgement that as they were the only two left, they should probably talk to each other, and she smiled and took a few steps closer, resting one elbow on the bar behind them. "I'm sorry," Remus said. "I missed the start of the meeting, so I didn't catch your name."

"Oh," she said, smiling and causing a pleasant tingle to pass through his body. "I'm Malina." She extended a hand, and Remus took it, shaking it lightly, even though she had a surprisingly strong grip. "Malina Dobrowski."

"Remus. Remus Lupin," he returned and she dropped his hand and gazed at him.

"Hi."

"Hi."

As she held his gaze his heart beat louder and faster. He wondered if she could hear it. Malina bit her lip and glanced at the door. "Do you think we're going to see either of them again tonight?" she said, jerking her head in the general direction of the street outside.

"I wouldn't bank on it," Remus said.

Malina frowned, but there was something about her expression that was distinctly amused, and he couldn't help offering her a smile of encouragement. "Well, this is pretty awkward," she said, and he raised his eyebrows at her, taking a sip of his pint and neither agreeing nor disagreeing, just keen to see what she might say next. "They could at least have introduced us before they left. You know, thrown us a helpful hint about what to say to each other, or something. I mean what are we supposed to talk about?" Despite her words, Remus couldn't help noting the flirtatious tone that rather belied them, and he couldn't help liking it, a lot. "I've been trying to break the ice with people all evening by going on about why Death Eaters wear such dismal clothes and the like," she continued. "And now everyone thinks I'm a total weirdo." She rolled her eyes at herself, and then her forehead creased and she peered up at him through her scrappy fringe apologetically. "Sorry. I talk too much when I'm nervous."

"Why are you nervous?" Remus said.

"Because the only person I really know just left me stranded here so she could go and shag your friend against a wall somewhere, and if you don't like me I'm going to have to sit in the corner on my own all night like a big freak."

"Oh," he said, suppressing a chuckle.

"See?" she said, gesturing in exasperation at the ceiling. "Talk too much."

Remus drained his pint, and gestured to the bottle she had in her hand. "Would you like a drink?" he said. "Something to steady your nerves?"

"Yes," she said. She opened her mouth to say something else and then closed it again and grinned. "I'll just leave it there."

He suppressed another chuckle, and gestured to Aberforth, ordering them both a Butterbeer. When they had been unceremoniously plonked on the bar in front of them, Remus waved at a table in the corner near the fireplace, raising his eyebrows at her in question. Malina nodded, and went over, choosing the stool next to the fire and perching on it rather delicately, fiddling with a beer mat on the rickety table in front of her. He sank down in a stiff-backed chair opposite, and slid her drink across the table to her. "Thanks," she said, lifting it to her lips and smiling in a way that made his insides dance like the flames in the grate and his body heat in a way that had nothing whatsoever to do with their proximity to them. "So – how long have you been in the Order?"

"Since I left school," he said. "Couple of years."

"Is it always this grim?" she said, and he laughed. He couldn't help it, because things had been so dire, and yet they all pretended, constantly, that they weren't fighting a losing battle. He thought that maybe no-one wanted to be the first to say it – or maybe it was pride – no-one wanted to admit out loud, or even to themselves, how scared they were.

"Honestly?" he said, and she nodded. "Yes."

"Seems like I picked the right time to do the right thing, then," she said, rolling her eyes. "I always did have really appalling timing."

He chuckled softly, glad that his impulse to hang around until everyone else had gone, to see if she lingered too, had paid off. They chatted for a while about why he didn't recognise her from Hogwarts – her parents had travelled around a lot, Eastern Europe, mostly – and with every question she answered his impression of liking her was more and more reinforced.

Their conversation was easy, and uninterrupted, save for the crackling of the fire and the squeak of Aberforth in the corner polishing a pint glass with a cloth that looked as if it had already been used to dust the entire place, and Remus learned a lot about her – on hearing that she was a troll tamer, he'd almost choked on his Butterbeer, and she'd laughed, and then explained how she'd come to understand troll behaviour enough to control it to a certain degree, and how Dumbledore had approached her family for their expertise, in the hope that some troll factions might come over to their side for some added muscle.

Malina told him that she lived in Poland at the moment, and, sensing the perfect opportunity for some speculative flirting, Remus smiled. He dropped one elbow onto the table and leaned on his hand, peering at her through the firelight and a bit of stray fringe. "Teach me something," he said, fixing her with his best flirtatious gaze and hoping he hadn't forgotten how to do it. Her eyebrows raised as if she hadn't really been expecting the question, but at least she hadn't run away screaming.

"What?"

"Teach me some Polish."

"Oh," she said, smiling. "All right."

She looked up at the ceiling for a moment in consideration, and then met his eye. "Dzien dobry, moj miano jest Remus, i jestes piekna," she said, and he liked the purring tone her voice took on as she spoke the words very much, even though he didn't understand a single syllable.

Remus blinked at her a couple of times in playful incomprehension, and she laughed.

It had been a while, but he hadn't forgotten that laughter was normally a good sign. "Dzien dobry," she said more slowly, and he concentrated hard on trying to do something other than staring, mesmerised, at her lips. "Moj miano jest Remus, i jestes piekna."

He wasn't sure how she expected him to concentrate when she was using that honeyed purr of hers, but he repeated what she'd said as best he could – although it was a rather pathetic attempt. She giggled. "No, its – dzzz," she said. "It's all in the throat – dzien."

"Dzien?" he offered, hoping she wouldn't hold his lack of linguistic skill against him. He wondered if he shouldn't have asked her to teach him some troll instead.

Although would the grunting be appealing?

"Nearly," she said. "Imagine you've got a cold and you're trying to clear your throat."

"Dzien," he said, thinking that imaginary phlegm was probably setting the appropriate romantic tone even less than learning troll would have.

"Very good."

"Thanks," he said, even though he suspected she was lying.

"Do you want to try the rest?"

Remus made another, perhaps even more, pathetic attempt at the phrase, but Malina beamed at him as if he'd got it exactly right first time. "What does it mean?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"It means," she said, meeting his eyes, hers smiling coyly, "'hello, I'm Remus and I think you're really pretty.'"

"Oh," he said, laughing. She took a long swig of her Butterbeer, and then set it back on the table, rolling the glass between her palms.

"Just a spot of wishful thinking on my part," she said, and her smile was intoxicating.

Remus grinned. "You think?" he said, and her eyebrows raised hopefully.

"Isn't it?"

"Maybe," he said, and then chuckled, studying the grain of the table and not quite confident enough to meet her eye. "Maybe not."

He told himself not to be pathetic, because girls very rarely found that an attractive quality in a man, and looked up slowly. Malina bit her lip and held his gaze for a moment, and as he watched, her eyes took on a flirtatious twinkle. "Can I buy you another drink?" she said, gesturing to his nearly finished pint on the table.

"I'd like that."

She grinned briefly, and then leant forward, peering at him through the firelight. "Feeling adventurous?" she said.

"Why? What did you have in mind?"

"In Poland," she said, "when we drink Firewhiskey, we set it on fire."

"Really?" he said, although he thought that, given some of the things reputably available under the counter from The Hog's Head, something on fire was actually a bit tame.

"Can I tempt you?"

Remus' insides tingled in a way they'd grown exceedingly unaccustomed to. "I think actually," he said, "yes you could."

She flashed him a smile and then got up, and he watched as she crossed the bar. Aberforth folded his newspaper with a huff, even though Remus knew he'd only been pretending to read it while he listened in on their conversation, got up from his stool at the hatch and went over to serve her.

As Malina came back, one shot glass clutched in each hand, she looked vaguely puzzled.

She sank into the seat next to him rather than the stool she'd chosen earlier, and her knee touched his under the table. He wondered if it was an accident, although when she didn't move it away again, leaving it resting against his, he thought probably not. She met his eye, smiled slightly, and then leant towards him. "I think the barman fancies me," she said.

"Really?"

"Hmm."

"Is he in with a chance?" Remus asked, his voice lilting with amusement at the thought. Then he paused, hoping more acutely than he had for anything in a long while that the answer was the no he expected, and that his amusement was justified. She raised an eyebrow by way of reply, flooding him with relief, and when she spoke, her voice was a low, conspiratorial, whisper.

"He asked me if I'd like to come up to his bedroom later and play with his goats. It's an inventive euphemism, I'll give him that."

Remus choked back a laugh, shooting a glance at Aberforth and wondering if he was listening. "It's not a euphemism," he said quietly, and then had to choke back a shiver as Malina leant in inquisitively, and her shoulder brushed his.

"What?"

Her eyes were alive and alert as they roved his face, looking for clues about whether or not he was joking. "It's not a euphemism," he said. "He really does keep goats in his bedroom."

Malina's mouth dropped open. "Really?" she said, her voice leaping up in volume in surprise. Aberforth turned towards them and raised an eyebrow, and Malina tittered at Remus' side, and then grimaced at him in apology. She lowered her voice to so little a whisper he had to lean even closer to hear. "He really keeps goats in his bedroom?"

"Well not exclusively," Remus said. "I hear they rather wander wherever they like."

"Oh," she said, her expression slowly shifting from shock to amusement. "I can't quite decide if it's worse that he actually has goats in his bedroom for me to play with," she said, "or that it might be a euphemism for his – well, you know." Remus laughed, feeling his breath quicken slightly at the twinkle in her eyes.

"Need that drink now?" he said, and she nodded, taking out her wand and shooting a

silent _Incendio_ at both of their shot glasses. The amber liquid in them leapt into blue flame with a tiny 'whoosh', and she reached for her glass.

"Erm – " Remus said, warily eyeing the flaming spirit in front of him. "What am I supposed to..?"

"Oh, it's easy," she said, and, deftly and fearlessly, she covered her shot glass with her hand. He watched, fascinated, as the flames went out and the glass stuck to her palm as she raised it off the table, her eyebrows inching higher as she watched his reaction. Then she removed her hand, and raised the glass at him in toast. "Na zdrowrie!" she said, and knocked the drink back.

Remus eyed the flaming glass in his hand, knowing that drinking things that were on fire was probably a bit foolhardy. But he didn't want to appear less manly than she had, and of course he _was _supposed to be a Marauder. He placed his hand over the flames quickly, telling himself that when it came to romance, fortune was supposed to favour the brave, and if he couldn't even deal with a spot of fire, he was done for. The flames tickled at his palm for a moment, and when they stopped, he removed his hand, and casually lifted the glass to his lips, as if drinking things that had recently been alight was a regular occurrence.

The glass was halfway to his mouth when flames leapt from the rim of the glass, and he could only marvel in horror as his fringe caught light. "Ahhh!"

For a moment he was too dumbstruck to do anything but make a rather un-manly noise, but when Malina uttered something he presumed was a Polish swearword and leant forward, swatting at his flaming fringe, he leapt into action himself, patting at his forehead as the scent of singed hair swirled around them. When the flames were finally out they were both giggling hysterically, and he swore he saw Aberforth on the other side of the bar roll his eyes in a distinctly Dumbledore fashion. "Are you all right?" Malina said her cheeks pink-tinged with laughter or embarrassment.

"Slightly singed," he said, toying with his smouldering fringe. "I'll live."

"You need to wait 'til the glass sticks," she said.

"I'll bear that in mind next time," he said, and, this time making sure the flames were properly extinguished, knocked his shot back, grinning at her, not even minding the singed fringe when she smiled at him.

Two hours and a couple of drinks later, Aberforth stared grumpily at them over the top of his folded arms and kept pointedly looking at the clock above the bar, which read 'Don't you have homes to go to?' instead of eleven. Malina, at least, seemed to take the hint.

"I suppose we'd better go," she said, and he wondered if he imagined the reluctance in her voice, imagining the tone he wanted to hear. "I think he's going to throw us out in a minute. Or set his goats on us."

Remus attempted a chuckle, but underneath, his chest thundered. He'd always known that at some point the evening would come to an end, but he'd been having such fun finding out about her and talking to her and flirting with her that he hadn't given any real thought to what would happen when it did.

He wanted something to, of that he was certain. As they'd sat progressively closer, on a couple of occasions he'd been completely overtaken by the urge to kiss her, and the way she'd sometimes brushed his arm with her hand as they'd talked had only bolstered the impulse. He supposed the end of an evening together was pretty much the ideal time to do it – at least he'd have tradition on his side.

"Shall I see you home?" he said, hoping he didn't sound too hopeful, or if he did that his hopefulness wasn't too tinged with desperation.

"I'm a troll tamer," she said, pleasantly, gathering up her cloak. "You don't have to – I can look after myself."

"I know," he said, quickly. "But if I don't come with you, it's going to make it really hard for me to kiss you goodnight on your doorstep."

Malina stopped midway through donning her cloak and met his eye, and he twitched his eyebrows at her. "Ok," she said, and the way she battled a grin made his insides squirm.

She stood up, and he followed, helping her on with the rest of her cloak before reaching for his own, and then tentatively offering her his arm. She took it, and he lead her to the door and out into the cold.

The doorstep in question wasn't far. Some friends of her parents had decided to leave the country for a while and had offered her their Hogsmeade flat, apparently, and as they climbed the stairs behind Gladrags, Remus' heart was pounding. He wondered if he'd been this nervous and excited about kissing a girl since the first time he'd done it.

When they reached the door, Malina's face turned to his, the hint of an inviting smile playing on her lips. For a moment he had the completely irrational worry that he might have forgotten how to do it, and then that he was so out of practice he wouldn't be any good at it when he so desperately wanted to be, but he told himself not to be ridiculous and stepped forward a little. He was about to lean in, when – "You know," she said, "it's very dangerous for us to be lingering outside."

His eyebrows leapt in surprise – maybe she'd changed her mind? Maybe all this was one-sided? It'd be just his luck to fall for the wrong girl, again. He really was a disaster. Why couldn't he just find a nice girl who –

Malina fumbled in her pocket for her wand and then unlocked the door, gesturing for him to go inside. He shot her a vaguely quizzical look and, at her re-iterating the gesture, stepped into the hall, and she followed and closed the door behind them. He looked around, feeling a bit bewildered as he took in the narrow hallway he was standing in. "Erm – "

He let some kind of implied question about what on earth they were doing linger between them, and she smiled the most intoxicating smile she'd offered him all night, and then stepped closer, fingering the edges of his cloak. "Well, now," she said, "we just do whatever we were going to do, but on this side of the door."

"Oh," he said, inching closer and tilting his head down just a little, hoping he didn't look too delighted at the thought.

"Just a safety precaution."

He smiled, and she eased herself a little closer, until their bodies touched. He met her halfway, taking her face in his hand and leaning in to catch her lips with his.

And the kiss he received in return very nearly knocked his socks off.

He'd intended to ease back into this whole girl thing – take things slowly – a goodnight kiss that was more of a friendly peck – well, maybe just a _bit_ more than that – had been what he had in mind, but he couldn't help himself, and the instant her lips were under his, he found himself utterly captivated by the idea of never doing anything but kissing Malina for as long as he lived. He hadn't kissed a girl like this – properly – for ages, and he'd forgotten how good it felt, how it made a pleasant ache set up camp in his stomach, and made his brain give over all its earthly concerns about Death Eaters and Ministry politics and envoys and spies to something that was just a little slice of heaven.

He pressed her back against the wall, dropping one hand to her waist and slipping it just inside her cloak, while the other tangled in her hair and dislodged her beret. She didn't seem to mind, and her hands roamed too, letting him wonder if they were still in strictly goodnight kiss territory. She pulled away slightly, her breath tickling his face as she looked up at him. "Stay," she whispered.

"What?"

"Stay," she said. He smiled, wondering if she really meant what he thought she meant, but before he had time to come to a conclusion, she took advantage of his stunned silence and covered his lips with hers.

Her kiss was searing.

Remus thought he'd had some pretty great kisses in the past, but nothing had made him feel quite like this. She made him feel as if she alone had the key to his senses, the power to obliterate all of his concerns, and worries. He felt as if a fog had lifted, a fog he'd barely known was there, and it felt amazing. He pulled away a little. Was this really a good time to be making rash decisions?

"Just so we're clear," he murmured, his knees nearly buckling as she craned her neck and nibbled his earlobe, "are you inviting me to play with your goats?"

"Uh huh."

He swallowed. It probably wasn't the best time to be making rash decisions, but Remus thought that since he didn't really have the time to make anything other than a rash decision, he'd have to make do. He took her face in his hands and steered her lips back to his.

Moments later, they were tumbling down the thin hallway with her untucking his shirt and him wondering if this was really happening, and they came to rest against the doorframe to what he supposed might well be the bedroom. "I just want it noted that I don't normally do this kind of thing," she said, forcing the word out between frantic kisses.

"Ok."

"I mean it," she said, pulling back far enough to offer him a very sexy pout. "If I weren't going back to Poland in two days I'd insist on you taking me out."

"Well I could," he said. "Tomorrow, or – "

She cut him off with a kiss. "Let's just assume you have, shall we?" she said, steering him around the doorjamb.

"All right," he said, fumbling with the fastening of her cloak and nearly sighing as it fell to the floor. He pressed his lips to her throat, making his way up towards her ear. "Did I take you somewhere nice?" he asked against her skin.

"No," she said, pulling away and pouting at him in the most adorably playful fashion. "I'm very cross."

"You seem it."

He cradled her face in his hands, kissing her as they took a couple of steps towards the bed and he slowly tangled his fingers back into her hair. "You're going to make it up to me, though," she said, moving away to kiss his neck as she started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Am I?" he said. "How can you be so sure?"

"I tame trolls for a living," she said. "You don't want to make me angry."

"That's a good point," he said, fumbling to try and get her stripy jumper over her head. "Your wish is my command."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

Before he really knew how it had happened, they'd collapsed in a giggling, kissing, tangle of limbs on the bed, desperately trying to free each other of their remaining clothes. "Will you still respect me in the morning?" she said, rather breathlessly. He opened his mouth to reply, to say that of course – but she cut him off. "Aw hell," she said, slipping his shirt off his shoulders. "I'm leaving the country in two days. I don't care."

"Will you still respect _me_ in the morning?" he said as she pressed him back against the bed. She cocked her head at him in thought.

"I'll probably make you breakfast and shag you again," she said, "if that counts."

"I'd say that would do nicely," he said.

It was his last coherent thought, let alone sentence, for a while.

* * *

Remus smiled as she woke. Admittedly he didn't have a lot of experience waking up next to girls – at least not when he hadn't half-fallen asleep, half-passed out unconscious, but he liked waking up with Malina. Although he'd only done it three times, he thought that was far and away enough times to be certain.

They'd had two blissful days together, and three very blissful nights, and he really wished she didn't have to go back to Poland. She was a wonderful girl – she was quick-witted and exuberant, and she said what she thought, and she was tough, and feisty, and she knew about things he didn't, which he'd always found incredibly attractive in girls.

As he leaned down to kiss her, he wondered if the stirring feelings in his chest were in any way echoed in hers.

* * *

Later that morning, he walked Malina to the international Floo station, and they stood, hugging, neither really wanting to say goodbye. Or so he thought. For all the things he thought he'd felt when he was with her, neither of them had really raised the subject of doing this again, and he wasn't sure that was what she wanted, wondering if, for her, this had been nothing more than a pleasant diversion from the grim world she'd been plunged into.

But somewhere between inhaling the scent of her hair and giving her back one final squeeze, he thought _sod it_. She was going away, and she wouldn't be back for a month, at least – and by then, he might be dead. Was it really the time to fear embarrassment, or rejection?

He pulled back far enough to see her face, because if he was going to do this, he wanted to do it properly – and took her hand. "I know it's only been a couple of days," he said, scuffing her thumb with his, "but this has been nice. Very, very nice."

"I know," she said, and he met her eye, seeing the relief he felt at her words echoed in them.

"I'd understand," he said, "if that's all you wanted – a one time thing…."

He trailed off, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought we talked about me – despite appearances, not being that kind of girl?" she said, and he sniggered.

"I just – would it – " He bit his lip. "Would it be all right if I wrote to you, or something?"

She grinned. "I would really like that," she said, and his heart leapt.

"And maybe when you come back, we could go out?" he said, squeezing her fingers, and delighting in the way she squeezed back.

"That would be nice."

"Ok," he said, suddenly feeling bashful, for some reason. He looked down at his feet, thanking his lucky stars that she'd said yes.

"As long as you know what you're letting yourself in for," she said.

He looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Well," she said, "there's really not that much to do in Poland, so you'd better be prepared for some lengthy replies."

"Ok," he said, chuckling.

"My owl likes crusts," she said, and he murmured the words 'I'll bear that in mind' against her lips as he kissed her. "I'd better go," she said, as they parted. "My family'll worry if I'm back late."

He nodded, and reluctantly let go of her hand. "Stay safe," she said, and he kissed her softly.

"You too."

There was a tap on the window and Remus looked up to find Malina's owl, Olaf, peering hopefully at him. Lily looked up from her lunch too, raising an eyebrow at him inquisitively as he opened the window. "For you?"

Remus smiled. "Hmm."

The owl fluttered inside and rested on the draining board, holding out its leg obligingly. He crossed the room and scratched the owl's head in a way he knew it liked, before removing the parchment tied to its leg. "He's a handsome beast," Lily said. "And I don't recognise him so it's not from anyone in the Order…."

"No," Remus said. He gestured to the abandoned crusts on Lily's plate and she nodded, watching intently as he fed a couple to the eagerly awaiting bird.

Olaf finished his crusts and then hooted once at him and made for the open window and launched himself into the sky, and Remus watched until he was completely out of sight, fingering the parchment in his hand, wondering whether to read it now or save it for later when he could give it his full attention.

"So?" Lily said, readjusting Harry's position in her arms in a vain attempt to stop him tugging on the ends of her hair. "Are you going to put me out of my misery?"

"Hmm?" Remus murmured, forcing his eyes to fix on her.

"Who's the letter from?"

"My – " Remus paused, and glanced back at the window, even though Olaf was long gone. He'd been about to say 'girlfriend', but he wasn't sure the term was all that appropriate for a girl he'd only met four times, however much he felt he wanted to use it. "Well," he said, still not really knowing what he was going to say next.

"If it's from a girl," Lily said, rolling her eyes, "you can say. I won't be totally broken-hearted that you're over me."

Remus smiled, trying to quell the feeling that it was odd to be talking to Lily about this – after all, he'd always talked to her about girls in the past. "Yes," he said. "It's from a girl."

Lily smiled at him, and let the matter drop until after he'd finished his sandwich and she'd put Harry down for a nap, but as soon as she tapped her wand on the side of the kettle to heat it, he knew there was only one thing Lily wanted to talk about. She sat down across the table from him, presenting him with a mug of steaming tea, and raising an eyebrow at him in expectation. He avoided her eyes, even though years of experience told him it wouldn't help, and fingered one corner of the parchment in front of him, wondering about the contents of the letter he still hadn't read yet.

Lily leant forward, resting on her elbows, and peered at him over the rim of her tea cup. "Well do tell," she said, and Remus bit his lip to hold back a grin, because really, he'd been bursting to tell someone – there'd just never been an appropriate time.

Every conversation they seemed to have these days started with 'Did you hear about so-and-so? Two hours of the _Cruciatus_,' and it always seemed completely wrong to Remus for him to even think about following some tale of someone else's distress or demise with 'yes, I did. By the way, I've met a girl…'. But he and Lily had been having a very ordinary conversation about whether or not to have some cake, and she did seem to want to know. Remus took a deep breath, wondering why he felt so nervous.

"Her name's Malina," he said. "She lives in Poland."

"Really?"

"Hmm."

"And?" Lily said, widening her eyes at him in a mixture of inquisitiveness and annoyance.

"And what?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Oh come on," she said. "You've got to give me more than that. Details."

"Details?" Remus said.

"Yes," Lily said, with mock-terseness. "Is she pretty? How much do you like her? How did you meet? Have you shagged her yet? When do we get to meet her?"

Remus grinned, any unease he'd felt abating immediately in the wake of Lily's warm, friendly smile. "Very, lots, through the Order, yes, and sometime between now and never. Probably erring towards the never."

Lily laughed. "I knew it," she said. "You're ashamed of us."

"Well who wouldn't be?" he said, taking a sip of his tea. "Sirius met her, briefly – "

"And she's still talking to you?"

Remus chuckled. "He didn't stay long. Too busy flirting with Dorcas. Or whatever it is he does with girls."

"I'm not sure he ever has to flirt, does he?" Lily said. "Doesn't he just pout and wait for girls to fall at his feet?"

"Ah," Remus said. "Maybe that's where I was going wrong. Making too much effort."

Lily met his eye, hers twinkling approvingly. "Doesn't seem like you're going very wrong at the moment," she said, and Remus smiled, fingering the edges of the parchment in his hands.

"No," he said, feeling rather shy for some reason and shifting in his seat.

"Will you just read it?" Lily said, and her tone was so redolent of the days when they were both prefects and she scolded him about his friends, he jumped, and then laughed.

But he did as he was told. He broke the seal and unfurled the parchment, quickly scanning through the first few lines. "What's she say?" Lily said, peering at him over the top of her teacup. Remus swallowed, his eyes flickering up to Lily's and then back to the parchment in front of him.

"That she misses me," he said, smiling to himself.

"Aww," Lily said, wrinkling her nose at him as she tittered quietly. "What else?"

Remus scanned the next couple of lines. "She's working pretty hard," he said. "But her brother's back from his trip to Bulgaria, so she says that she thinks she might be able to come over in a couple of weekends time, if I'd like her to."

"And would you?"

Remus bit his lip, managing to get out a 'hmmm' before he had to give in to the strangled tone his heart leaping in his chest caused. Lily grinned, before eying him for a moment, weighing something up. "Are you in love, Remus?" she said, and he laughed.

"I don't know about that," he said, and as Lily gestured for him to continue, he took a quick, steadying, breath. "She's fun," he said, "and she thinks I'm fun, which is a minor miracle and probably means she's mentally unstable." Lily glowered at him playfully and let out a long admonishing sigh. "We haven't known each other very long and we don't see each other very often – "

"I don't think it's really about that," Lily said. "Love is just something you feel. Either you feel it, or you don't. Time isn't really a factor, I don't think."

"Oh yes?" Remus said, raising an eyebrow at her across the table. "And how long was it before _you_ realised _you_ were in love? Seven years, was it?"

Lily reached across the table and slapped him playfully on the arm. He shied away, open-mouthed with mock-offence, and, laughing, she relented. "All right," she said. "I don't have a leg to stand on."

Remus went back to his letter, scanning the next couple of paragraphs for the details Malina had sketched out for her trip, asking how free he'd be on those dates and if it'd be all right for her to stay with him so she didn't have to do any shopping for the flat when she arrived. Lily craned her neck over the table, and indicated the drawing in the corner of the parchment with her tea cup. "What's that?" she said.

"Oh," Remus said, his eyes fixing on what she was pointing to. He watched for a moment as a girl in a knee-length flared skirt with wild hair and a lop-sided beret ran, arms aloft, from a family of assorted-size trolls. He laughed quietly at it and the way she always drew herself, keen to get to the part of her letter where she detailed what had happened in full. "She does that sometimes," he said, "sends me cartoons of things she's been doing."

He slid the parchment across the table so Lily could see, and Lily chuckled. "Is that her?"

"Hmm."

"Why is she being chased by trolls?"

"Oh," he said, sniggering quietly. "That's what she does. She's a – well, she's a troll tamer."

"A troll tamer?" Lily said, open mouthed.

"Hmm."

"Really?"

"Hmm."

"How on earth did she..?"

"Bizarre as it sounds," he said, "it's kind of her family business."

"Really?"

"Hmm. Before the war they were training security trolls, that kind of thing – Dumbledore contacted them – he and her father are old friends, apparently – to see if they might not be able to persuade some of the larger breeds to come over to our side for a bit of added muscle. Her father's too ill to travel at the moment, so she's been coming to see Dumbledore instead."

"Wow," Lily said, dropping back in her chair. "All of a sudden I feel a bit boring."

Remus laughed before meeting her eye. "You could never be boring," he said. "And you know it." Lily smiled shyly, and looked away, and for a moment, the world felt completely still.

"She sounds really lovely," she said, and everything lurched back into motion.

"She is."

"And how does she feel about you?" she asked, and Remus smiled, avoiding her eyes.

"I don't know," he said. "I think she likes me. You know, quite a bit."

"Well there's an easy way to tell."

"Is there?" Remus said, looking up inquisitively, wondering if there was some kind of romantic intentions spell witches knew how to do on letters.

"How's she signed the letter?" Lily said.

"What?"

"I mean, has she finished off with a yours sincerely, or a from, or…something else?"

"Oh," Remus said, not sure whether he was disappointed that there wasn't a new spell to learn or not. He skimmed Malina's loopy handwriting until he got to the part in question, just checking whether it was the same word as it had been recently. "Kochający," he said.

"What's that mean?"

Remus bit his lip. "With love," he said.

He'd looked it up. He'd assumed, at first, when it appeared for the first time three weeks ago on her first letter after her last visit that it meant 'from' and had been pleasantly surprised. Since then, he'd been signing his with the same word, too, because that was what he felt.

"Been a while since I saw you smile like that," Lily said, and Remus realised with a start that he'd been grinning without noticing.

"Well that's because _somebody_ broke my heart and crushed my romantic spirit," he said, arching an eyebrow at Lily, and she laughed.

"Seems to be back with a vengeance," she said.

"Hmm," he said, leaning back in his chair and resting one elbow on the table. "Well, Sirius always did say the way to get over a girl was to fall for another one."

"I remember his version being a little crasser than that," Lily said, and Remus sniggered. "Are you going to tell him he was right?"

"Of course not," Remus said, clutching his chest, playfully appalled. "I'd never hear the end of it."

Their laughter was interrupted by a whoosh in the fireplace in the lounge, and James' spinning form appearing in the flames. He stepped out onto the hearth rug, brushing the soot off his robes and coughing slightly as he created his own cloud of Floo powder. Another whoosh followed and then another, and Sirius and Peter appeared in the flames roughly simultaneously, with Sirius trying to shove Peter back so he had enough room to get out and Peter apologising profusely from the crook of Sirius' elbow.

James ignored them both, and beamed over at the table, where Lily was getting to her feet. He shot a quick smile and hello at Remus, before crossing the room and drawing Lily into a hug, kissing her temple. "Everything OK?" he said, and Lily nodded.

"You?"

"Fine," he said. "Peachy, in fact."

He gave Lily a squeeze, and for a moment, Remus wondered if he'd ever know what it'd be like to have someone to come home to. "Where's Harry?" James said as Lily moved away and tapped the kettle with her wand before _Summoning_ another three mugs from the dresser.

Lily glanced up at the ceiling. "He's sleeping," she said, her voice taking on a pointed menace. She cast a quick frown at Sirius and Peter who had only just managed to fight their way out of the fireplace and were now dusting off their robes and covering the rug with soot.

"I'll just pop up and say hel – " James started.

"He's _sleeping_."

"I'll be quiet."

Lily raised an eyebrow, and James grinned in what Remus supposed was intended to be an endearing way. He bit back a chuckle at the thought that of all James' Lily-related grins, the one he thought she found endearing was probably the dopiest. "There's no such thing as James Potter being quiet," Lily said, but even though she had one hand on her hip, and was attempting a glare, Remus could tell her resolve was wavering as the corners of her mouth twitched with the onset of a smile.

"No need to tell us that," Sirius said, striding over to the table and stealing a banana out of the fruit bowl. "We had to share a room with him, remember? Dunno why he bothered with the Invisibility Cloak – most of the time you could hear him coming long before you'd have been able to see him."

He peeled the banana and shoved half in his mouth straight away. "Sirius Black," Lily said. "You have the table manners of a baboon."

"Thanks," Sirius said, grinning widely and revealing far too much half-chewed banana for Remus' liking.

While Lily was occupied with staring at Sirius disapprovingly, James made for the stairs. "Don't you dare wake him," Lily said, glaring at James accusingly. James grinned.

"I'll be quiet as a mouse with a _Muffliato_ spell," he said, and took off up the stairs two at a time, making much more noise than a mouse with a _Muffliato_ spell.

Lily rolled her eyes, and Sirius slumped down into a chair at the table, finishing the last of his banana in one bite and lazily tossing the skin over his shoulder and into the bin. Peter hovered at the work surface as if he wasn't sure whether to offer to help Lily with the tea or not, and then smiled in relief as Lily handed him a mug and indicated that he should sit.

"Anything exciting happen while we were gone?" Sirius said, raising an eyebrow sardonically as if he didn't believe such a thing was possible, and reaching for the mug Lily offered him.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Lily said, meeting Remus' eye pointedly. He shot her a half-hearted glance of warning, knowing that she wouldn't take any notice. "Remus has a girlfriend."

Peter's eyebrows leapt high on his forehead in surprise, and Sirius rocked back in his chair far enough to give Remus a slap on the back that knocked all of the air out of his chest. "I knew that dry spell wouldn't last," he said. Remus coughed. "Men like me and you – "

"For the last time," Remus said, sighing, "would you _please_ stop putting me in the same category as you?" Sirius grinned.

"Who's the lucky lady?" he said.

Remus was about to reply when there was a creak on the stairs, and James appeared with Harry in his arms and a sheepish expression on his face. "I told you not to wake him," Lily said, although her reprimand sounded a little half-hearted.

"He was like this when I got there," James said, and Lily chuckled, grinning as she watched James jiggle Harry in his arms and Harry emit a little, tiny, gurgling laugh.

"So uncle Remus has gone and got himself a girlfriend, then?" James said, leaning on the dresser and offering Harry a finger to play with. "What's she like?"

Remus opened his mouth to say something, but Lily cut him off. "Her name's Malina, she lives in Poland, and she's a troll-tamer," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she watched the blush creep up Remus' cheeks.

"A troll-tamer?" Peter said.

"Hmm."

"I didn't even know you could – you know – tame them," he said, shrugging.

"Have you – " Sirius started, but before he got a chance to go any further, Lily interrupted.

"And yes, he has shagged her, she's very pretty, and he likes her very much," Lily said. A slow smile crept across her face and she met James' eye. "In fact," she said, "I think he more than likes her very much."

Remus studied the table. "It's early days," he said, but he couldn't help smiling.

"It's about time you fell for someone," James said.

"I didn't say – " Remus protested.

"Oh come on," James said. "We know you well enough to know _that _look."

"What look?"

James squinted at him in consideration, and Remus wished he hadn't asked. "It's part hopeful puppy and part romantic hero," James said, leaning forward and scrutinising him further. "With just a dash of something else…."

"It's a kind of pathetic desperation," Sirius mused, and Peter sniggered. Remus sighed.

"Thanks," he said, shooting Sirius a glare. Sirius held up his hands defensively.

"That's the look you wore all year when you were mooning over Olivia Crosby," Peter said.

"And the one you wore after your indiscretion in the broom cupboard," Sirius said.

"And the one you were stuck with all last year while you were in love with that mystery girl," James added, and then frowned. "Although that one was a bit more anguished."

Remus chanced a glance at Lily across the table, and then a slight smile. "When do we get to suss her out, then?" James said.

"Suss her out?"

"Well we've got to make sure she's not going to make you go all melodramatic, haven't we?"

"Yep," Sirius said, letting out a quick sigh of mock resignation, as if he'd just been forced to assume some terrible responsibility. "We've got enough on our plates without having to deal with a moping Moony and his Joni bleeding Mitchell records."

Remus laughed. "I don't think that'll be necessary," he said.

"He's ashamed of us," Lily said.

"I'm not," Remus protested. "I just – "

"Don't want to let us meet her in case we embarrass you?" she offered, and Remus grinned. "You know, if you marry her, we'll get to meet her then," she said, her eyes dancing with playful challenge.

"You'll just have to wait 'til then, then," Remus said quietly, and Peter, Sirius and James all looked at him with a variety of shocked expression. "It'll give you all something to do between us cutting the cake and the first dance."

Sirius gaped at him for a minute, and then closed his mouth and rolled his eyes. "Now I've seen everything," he said, leaning back in his chair. "A werewolf in love."

Remus smiled. A werewolf in love indeed, he thought.

They spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and teasing, laughing at things no-one but them would find funny, reminiscing about schooldays, old friends, stories – memories – they shared, and as the sun set and the light drained away, they carried on, putting the world to rights in the face of encroaching darkness, taking it in turns to make the others laugh, to tell some story they'd forgotten.

And all the while they talked, Remus silently marvelled. He wasn't just a werewolf in love, he was a werewolf who had love, and that was, in all honesty, something he'd never expected. But looking at his friends, he couldn't doubt it.

It was a memory he'd treasure, and as the darkness stopped encroaching and took them all, it was the one thing he clung to.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, with extra special thanks to everyone reading this who leapt in with a snarky review for the person who tried to plagiarise me over the weekend. Much appreciated. **

**Anyone reviewing this chapter gets a love letter from Remus by first class owl post ;). **


	11. Claire Trask

Remus woke with a start, and ran a hand slowly over his face to reassure himself that he was really awake.

He'd dreamt about her again.

He closed his eyes for a moment, but he knew he'd woken too quickly for sleep to be anything other than hopelessly elusive.

The fierce pace of his heart made his hands shake a little, and so he took a long, deep breath trying to calm himself. It was, after all, just a dream – but he couldn't get the image of her twisting away, just out of reach, as if she'd been snatched by the wind, out of his mind.

He glanced down at the blonde hair on the pillow next to him, thinking how bizarre it was to be dreaming about one woman when he was in bed with another.

He'd met Claire six months ago, in a little second-hand book shop which he'd darted into to hide from a torrential downpour that had caught him unawares. She'd been browsing the classics section, and he'd joked that she shouldn't buy the volume in her hands unless she was in the mood to be depressed…. She'd replied that it was a gift for her sister, who she'd never been overly fond of, and so it would do nicely, and they'd shared a smile and a chuckle and then gone their separate ways, and then run into each other again half an hour later in the bakery in the village.

He wasn't _quite_ sure how they'd fallen into a relationship, because he really had decided – some years ago – that he was a disaster at this kind of thing and that it would be better to give it up, but she'd told him she was new to the area, asked if he could recommend a decent place to get a drink, and before he knew it, one drink that evening had become many and several, and then this.

Obviously there was a vast swathe of stories between a couple of drinks and him waking up in her bed having dreamt about another woman, but when he came to think about it, he couldn't quite remember the details.

There hadn't been any significant moment with Claire, they'd just kind of slid into whatever it was that they had, and whilst he could remember her laugh, picture in his mind quite clearly how it sounded, every timbre, every nuance of the way her lips moved as she did it, he couldn't really remember how he'd come to ask her out, or even kissing her for the first time, even though he knew it had been on her doorstep, in the autumn, with the scent of golden leaves in the air.

These days, he stayed at her flat quite often – it was closer to the heart of the village, more convenient if they'd been to the pub than a stagger through the fields to his. He'd stayed there so often, in fact, she'd hinted, jokingly, that he might as well move in.

He'd always dodged the question, even though he was pretty sure she _was_ joking, because, truth be told, he rather liked the arrangement they had, and if he did move in, he'd be forced to tell her he was a wizard or to go to truly extraordinary lengths to hide it.

And he just couldn't face it.

He rather liked that when she looked at him, she didn't see Remus Lupin the wizard, and think '_isn't it a shame for him – all his friends died, you know, betrayed by that Sirius Black_', which was a whisper he'd been dogged by in the aftermath of the war when he'd finally plucked up the will to leave the house.

Claire just saw Remus Lupin, a man with a very odd name that she'd chanced upon in a book shop one day, and he liked that, the simplicity of it. It made a nice change from all the high drama of his past.

And then there was the werewolf thing, of course. Tricky to hide in any relationship, _trickier_ to hide from someone you lived with, but _trickiest_ to explain to that someone, especially when they were someone for whom werewolves only existed in children's stories.

Not to mention that death by pitchfork-wielding mob wasn't his preferred method of slipping from this mortal coil, and he wasn't entirely sure how the good residents of Norfolk would take to finding out they had a werewolf on their doorstep, or how Claire would take to finding out she had one in her bed.

So all in all, he thought, emotional distance was the best way to go – and she hadn't seemed to mind, really. She'd always been pretty easy going about everything to do with him, not questioning why he hadn't made more of himself with a proper career, or why where he lived was so scantily furnished and decked with books with odd titles (he'd charmed the really leading ones, of course, to read as something else), or why he only had four pairs of trousers to his name.

It wasn't that he didn't like Claire – she was funny, and bright, and devoted to her job at the hospital in town – but at the same time, he knew that she was very much the Elsa Whitmore to Malina's Lily Potter, and she always would be.

And it wasn't her – because she was every inch as lovely as Elsa had been – it was him. He just didn't feel – couldn't, he didn't think – what he should have for her, and if he'd learned one lesson, it was that you always felt love when you had it, and didn't when it wasn't there.

He rolled over so he could see the clock on the pine bedside table. The hands helpfully told him it was ten to seven, which seemed a ridiculous time for anyone to be awake on a Sunday morning, and the distinct lack of traffic on the road outside or chatter from the neighbours tended to agree.

In the silence, with just the gentle fluttering of Claire's breathing and the odd tweet of a bird outside to distract him, he had nothing to do but think about the dream that had woken him in the first place.

It was always the same. One minute, she'd be smiling at him, and he'd smile back, and he'd get a wonderful feeling of floating, and go to reach for her, and she'd dodge out of his grasp playfully – and then everything changed, went dark, and she'd get swept away, a look of twisted horror on her face, and he couldn't reach her, however hard he tried.

The dream bothered him.

He didn't mind dreaming about people who weren't in his life any more – he dreamt about his friends all the time, and there was an odd comfort to the ones he had that were set at Hogwarts, reliving some adventure, or panicking about having not revised enough for a Transfiguration exam while Lily tutted at him unsympathetically. Even though when he woke he was invariably engulfed by sorrow and longing, it was nice to feel for a while how he used to feel – that there were people who knew and accepted him, faults and all – people who'd seen the truth of what he was and hadn't baulked.

But when he dreamt about her, it was different. He always woke with a start, because the dreams about her weren't comforting at all, and he never got used to them, even though he'd been having them for years.

He missed her, he supposed.

Malina hadn't heard about James, Lily and Peter for nearly two weeks after they'd died – she'd been incommunicado on some mission in the mountains in Slovakia, but as soon as she _had_ heard, she'd raced to be with him.

He remembered it like it was yesterday, unfortunately.

There'd been a knock at the door, and he'd jumped, because fleetingly a voice in his head had reminded him in a cold, mocking laugh that all of the people who usually knocked on his door were dead.

He'd staggered to open it, blinking as his eyes adjusted to unfamiliar daylight. "Remus?"

He'd squinted to see who the voice belonged to, and her features had swum into something resembling something he recognised. "I came as soon as I could," she'd said. "As soon as I heard – I mean, they were your friends, weren't they?"

He'd uttered a grunt. It was the most coherent thing he'd done in days – even when Moody had kicked his door in, assuming he'd been killed by Death Eaters because no-one had seen him, he'd only managed a hollow explanation he couldn't even be sure contained actual words, and shoved him out the door again.

She'd rushed forward and hugged him, and he'd collapsed against her. He'd wondered if he'd ever been more grateful to see anyone in his entire life, and she'd pushed him inside, mumbling platitudes that were achingly heartfelt if lacking in originality, and slamming the door behind them with her foot.

He'd slid to the ground, and she'd gone with him, tightening her grip until he thought she'd break something. He hadn't cared. He'd clung to her desperately, and wanted to say something – he hadn't even said hello, but the words got lost in his throat and his mouth was too dry and full of sobs.

It still hurt to think of.

They'd been together for five years, on and off.

Because of her work they couldn't see each other very often, which suited him – not because he didn't want to spend time with her because he did – but her not being around much and on a fairly irregular basis made the lying easier. If there was a full moon while she was staying with him it was easy to explain away – she simply wasn't there often enough to spot a pattern, to get suspicious. If he looked tired when she arrived he'd say he hadn't been well, that he'd been working too hard, and she believed him because she had nothing else to go on.

It suited him more than he cared to admit to have her flit in and out of his life – and every time they saw each other it was like they'd only just met. Everything was always exciting and fresh – they were always pleased to see each other, and she was never around for long enough to get irritated with him.

But he did love her; had loved her, with as much of his heart as was left.

That's why the dream bothered him so much. It wasn't the image, so much as the lie of it.

In the dream, she was just out of his reach, but Malina had never been out of his reach – she'd been no such thing. She'd been very much within his grasp, only he'd been too much of a coward – too hurt by the past and afraid of the future – to reach out and take what he wanted.

She'd asked him to move to Poland with her, permanently. She'd said that someone with his skills, his knowledge about magical and Dark creatures would be invaluable, and with her father's worsening health, he'd be an asset.

He'd longed with every cell in his body to say yes –

But in the end, he hadn't been able to trust her feelings, to trust that if he told her the truth, told her he'd lied to her for so long, told her what he was, that she would still love him.

At the time, he'd wanted to leave her with the image of the man she thought he was, rather than with the tattered ruins of reality.

He'd regretted breaking up with her rather than taking a chance every day – every second – for longer than he cared to remember, and in his chest had sat the thought that when she'd left, she'd taken the last chance at happiness life was ever going to throw his way with her.

The clock struck seven, and with a jolt, he remembered what day it was.

And then he wanted to laugh, because at least it was a fitting day to be a pathetic melancholy bastard.

His birthday.

Merlin, he thought. Thirty.

When he'd been younger, he'd always assumed that by this point in his life he'd have sorted things out, had at least a passing handle on it – but he was just as clueless as he had been at seventeen, if not more so.

Next to him, Claire stirred, and he smiled as she sleepily opened her eyes. "You're awake early," she mumbled.

"Hmm," he said.

She shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder and muttering something about lunacy, and he grinned and kissed her on the forehead. She murmured happily for a moment, and then her eyes opened fully, and she looked up at him, smiling. "Is it because it's your birthday?" she said, and he laughed. "Too excited by the thought of your presents to sleep?"

"Of course," he said, shifting closer. "I thought you'd forgotten."

"What kind of girlfriend would I be if I forgot your birthday? I've got lots of very exciting plans," she murmured. "I just hadn't banked on a dawn start."

He sniggered and wrapped his arms more tightly around her, murmuring for her to go back to sleep. As she settled against the crook of his neck, he smiled. Just because he suspected this wouldn't last, it was no reason not to enjoy it and be grateful for it while it did.

* * *

Later that morning, Remus sat at the table finishing his breakfast, and chuckling quietly at the joke in the birthday card Claire had got him about him being over the hill.

There was a tiny tap on the window, and Remus looked up from his toast and jam to see two, tiny yellow eyes peering at him.

He couldn't help but grin.

Checking that Claire was still in the bathroom, he got to his feet and opened the window, scratching Olaf on the head in the way he knew the owl liked. "Hello," he said, quietly. "Long time, no see."

Olaf hooted in a way that made Remus think he was pleased to see him, too, and held out his leg. He detached the roll of parchment with slightly shaking hands, half-afraid, and half utterly euphoric about what he might find inside.

"Is that a – is that an owl?"

"What?" Remus said, with a start. He turned to find Claire, towel-drying her hair and wrapped in her dressing gown, looking at him curiously, and then her gaze darted pointedly towards the owl on the window ledge. "Oh, yes," Remus said. "I think he – er – crashed into the window."

He fished on his plate for a crust and held it out to Olaf, who hooted in appreciation and then took it, and flew off into the sky. "I hope he's all right," Claire said, frowning. "You don't see many owls in the day time, do you?"

"Hmm," he murmured, his eyes tracing Olaf's progress. "I think he's fine. He's flying all right. Probably just a bit startled."

He glanced back at Claire and smiled. "What's that?" she said, gesturing to the parchment in his hand.

"Oh – " he said, glancing at it, as if he was as surprised to see himself clutching it as she was. "Letter from an old friend," he said. "It came the other day – I just found it in my pocket."

She smiled, leant forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then hurried off to the bedroom to get dressed, calling over her shoulder to him to put the kettle on, that they'd have a cup of tea and then get going.

He flicked the switch on the kettle absentmindedly, and then fingered the parchment in his hand.

He wasn't certain whether he wanted to open it or not, and yet he knew that he would.

He took a deep breath, and sat down at the table, unfurling it slowly, and as he did so, a cartoon erupted into life on the paper in front of him – the words 'Happy Birthday' blazing, with balloons drifting up from it, and miniature sparklers writing his name.

He smiled, because he'd always loved the drawings in her letters, and his heart pounded even before he got to the first word.

He scanned through the opening passage – a joke about her hoping this was ok and that he wasn't currently being beaten to death by a jealous lover – and then the next, a couple of lines wishing him a lovely day on his birthday, hoping he was well, asking what he'd been up to.

She was married, apparently, to a fellow troll tamer called Gregor, and they had two children so far – both boys, one of whom Olaf was very taken with and slept with at night, and another who was demanding a pet dragon as compensation.

She'd done a little cartoon of them all in the woods, with a small boy with a dragon on a lead, and her looking distinctly worried as the trees caught light around them as the dragon let out a happy fireball as he chased a bird.

She'd signed it _kochający, Malina, _and he smiled, though his chest ached at the sight of those words, unfamiliar for so long, but not unforgotten.

He put the letter into his pocket, pressing his fingers to his lips to contain the flutter in his stomach as he wondered if that was the life he could have had with her, if he'd only had the guts – the nerve – to reach for it.

Thirty. Wasn't he supposed to be less of a disaster by now?

He wondered what Lily and James would have done with him today. Harry would be nine or so – tall, he imagined, with Lily's charm, and James' boisterousness, and for a moment he saw a flash of something from another life, a life that had never happened: a party on a lawn in spring on a Sunday for no reason, with everyone together and teasing and laughing; James teaching Harry how to do tricks on his toy broom, Sirius telling Harry not to listen, that his old dad wasn't half the flying ace he thought he was, and Peter laughing his head off, while Lily watched, conjuring barely visible cushions underneath the broom in case Harry fell.

Remus could barely imagine what that would be like. He didn't really want to.

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for the lengthy wait. I hope you enjoyed this instalment, and that me not killing Malina (as so many of you thought I would – as if I'd be _that_ cruel ;) ) makes up for it. Kind reviewers get a werewolf of their choice and a raft of fun birthday activities, which may or may not include a picnic in the woods with a cartoon dragon for company ; ). **


	12. The Bad Penny

Remus pulled his cloak more tightly to him as a breeze whipped past, chilling him right to the bone. He couldn't deny that the fiery leaves on the trees of the Forbidden Forrest made a pleasant view from his room, but he thought he could do with a little less autumnal chill until he found his scarf. He was sure he'd packed it, although he hadn't turned it up yet, even though he'd been teaching at Hogwarts for over a month and most of his belongings were happily nestled in his room or office.

Teaching at Hogwarts.

He smiled at the thought.

Still, it sounded like a fantasy, a dream he was bound to wake from with a start, even though the pile of second year essays he knew he had waiting for him told a different story.

He'd been staggered to be offered the position; but Dumbledore hadn't been in the mood to put up with any self-deprecating protests about how unsuitable and ill-prepared he was, and he'd had to agree that the one person most likely to catch Sirius if he tried anything was the one person alive who knew him best.

Remus shivered, unsure whether it was the thought of facing his old friend that was responsible, or the wind nipping at his thin sleeves, or if it was something left over from passing the Dementors.

He suspected it was the former.

Even after all this time, his chest still ached at the thought of what Sirius had done – and more than that, at the thought of what he might be capable of now, because if he could betray his best friend and endanger the life of his own godson, there seemed no limits to the evil he was capable of.

It still seemed incongruous with the Sirius he remembered.

Remus pressed on down the path, trying not to give it too much thought, because every time he did, brooding followed, and the gorgeous fallen leaves beneath his feet and the prospect of a couple of hours to himself were too good an opportunity to waste on ponderings that would only reiterate what he'd been thinking for years.

He took a breath of crisp air, and his thoughts turned to Harry. He'd been a little wary of meeting him again after so much time – he'd had an image in his head of what Harry would look like – be like – and he wasn't sure he wanted it shattering.

But he needn't have worried, because the instant Remus had heard his voice on the train he'd known that Harry was every inch the son Lily and James would have hoped for. Since then, he'd proved himself capable, but not, by all accounts, beyond getting into trouble, which he couldn't help thinking was exactly what they would have wanted.

The thing that gave Remus the most comfort, though, wasn't how capable and brave Harry was, nor how normal he seemed despite adversities most could only imagine in their worst nightmares, it was that Harry had friends – the kind of friends Lily and James would have wished for him; the kind _he_ would have wished for him.

Hogsmeade appeared in the middle distance, and he quickened his pace a little, thinking vaguely of all the times he'd made this trip with his friends, or with a girl – a flash of Elsa taking his hand as they walked, of James running down the path, of Peter, stumbling on the cobbles because he was too engrossed in the comic he was reading.

It was strange being back at Hogwarts – nice, in a way, to be surrounded by memories of the happiest times of his life, but those memories came at a price. They were a constant reminder that things now were not as they were supposed to be.

After a day's teaching, he should be meeting his friends in the Three Broomsticks for a drink. They should be swapping stories – how he longed to have friends to tell about the antics of his students – and hear stories of their days in return.

Lily should be asking him how Harry was doing in Defence, with a gleam of expectant pride in her eyes. James should be saying that teaching must be a right lark, asking if when he taught werewolves, he'd answer 'how to recognise a werewolf' with a 'one, he's standing in front of you, two, he's wearing dismally shabby robes, and three, he listens to bleeding awful music'…. And they should all be laughing, teasing Sirius about whichever ill-advised relationship he'd found himself in, chatting to Peter about how his work was coming on, and if he'd found the nerve to ask the girl he had a crush on out, yet.

And for his part, he should –

Well, whenever Remus looked at his life, he couldn't help thinking he'd made a hash of it. He'd had a chance at a normal life – as normal as a werewolf and a troll tamer could ever have hoped for, anyway – with Malina, and he'd thrown it away because he was too scared it'd blow away in the wind eventually anyway.

And after that….

Claire hadn't lasted long.

He'd never really made any particular investment of energy in their relationship, and after a while she'd started to sense it. There had been rows – and eventually they'd split up over something so trivial that under any other circumstances he'd have found it laughable.

He'd shown lack-lustre enthusiasm for a trip to her mother's, but agreed to go anyway, and she'd argued that he shouldn't go if he didn't want to. He'd said that he didn't have any other plans, and if she wanted to go he was happy to tag along – and – well he didn't really know what it was specifically that had caused it, but she'd flown into a rage about him always being compliant and never caring what they did from one day to the next – and he'd said it wasn't that he didn't _care_, more that he didn't _mind_ and somehow that had resulted in her accusing him of being psychopathically nice, throwing a vase at him and leaving.

He hadn't seen her since.

He'd thought that once she'd had a chance to calm down, she might have come to see him, but she never had, and he hadn't gone to see her because – well, if he was honest, he couldn't be bothered. It seemed pointless to fight so often with someone he didn't really want to fight for, and so he'd just let things dwindle away.

And since then…. Well, he lived in the middle of nowhere, most of his friends were dead or incarcerated, and he didn't think that the words 'WLTM scrawny werewolf with no disposable income, dodgy romantic history and far too many books' were ever likely to appear in the personal ads in the back of _The Daily Prophet_.

He'd fallen a little too easily for his own liking into the life of a solitary bachelor, but he wasn't sure he had either the energy or the enthusiasm to set about changing his status, and at the moment, he had rather more important things on his mind, like if Hagrid's contact could be relied upon to produce a grindylow on demand, and that stack of second year essays he'd been putting off all week, not to mention his former best mate on the loose and planning who knew what.

Remus found himself in the heart of the village, and the Hogsmeade shops seemed to be doing a brisk trade, which he was a little surprised to see. Sirius' face was everywhere – as were those posters about Dementors, and though people muttered at the posters as they passed and chattered with false cheeriness about how they wouldn't like to come face-to-face with a Dementor, it didn't seem to have really dented people's enthusiasm for a spot of shopping.

Remus frowned at the poster in the window of Honeyduke's, and then opened the door and stepped inside, feeling a wonderful waft of warmth and familiarity. He scanned around – he'd intended to buy a selection of things to eat while he tackled those essays, but really it was a poorly veiled excuse to come and browse, see what might be new and exciting.

His eyes danced across the jars of bonbons in different disturbing flavours, remembering with a smile how Elsa had challenged him to eat a gooseberry surprise one, and then taking in liquorice, which he'd never liked, and which James had always bought and waved under his nose. There was another customer, a redhead, browsing the bonbons –

He froze.

It couldn't be, but there was something all too familiar about that mop of slightly frizzy red hair. Remus blinked, hoping it was a trick of the low, autumn sunshine.

It just _couldn't_ be.

She turned.

It was.

_Heather._

Oh. Bloody. Hell.

Oh bloody bloody bloody bloody bloody bloody hell.

Remus swivelled quickly on his heel, desperately looking for somewhere to hide. The cabinet to his right – which housed extra supplies of popular lines for the times when it was too busy to pop down to the cellar – was small, but a distinct possibility in an emergency situation, which he quickly decided this was. He reached for the handle.

"Remus?"

Sprung, he thought. Bugger.

He swallowed, and then, fixing as bland an expression as he could on his features, Remus turned and smiled, he suspected, with all the genuine warmth of a mannequin.

"Heather?" he said, his voice a good deal squeakier and more high-pitched than it had been at any time since he was twelve.

"I thought it was you," Heather said.

Remus swallowed, wondering if, given that their last encounter had involved him using the words 'would rather gargle troll snot than spend another second in your company', he should reach for his wand.

Heather's eyes roved his face with a rather manic expectation, and she stepped closer. He braced. He probably deserved a good hexing, anyway. "How've you been?" she said, and Remus eyebrows darted up in surprise that the first words out of her mouth hadn't been an Unforgivable Curse.

"Very well," he said, breathing hard, looking for possible escape routes. "You?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding her head far too enthusiastically. "Good."

Remus scanned the room. He could try a dash to the cellar, perhaps, and then make for the tunnel, or he could Apparate back to just outside the Hogwarts gates – although that seemed unfeasibly rude.

He frowned at himself and his rather unmanly panic.

It was just Heather – and she was smiling at him, her hands in plain sight and wand-less, which indicated that she didn't really seem to hold a grudge about the troll snot thing. He was overreacting, he thought, and he resolved just be polite, make some ex-like small-talk, and then go about his business.

Heather grinned at him. "So, are you married?" she said, her eyes darting down to his hand and then widening a little in either surprise or approval for the lack of ring she found there. Remus couldn't help thinking that her interest in his marital status was a worrying sign, whichever option it was.

"Erm – "

Lie, he thought. Lie now.

"Of course you aren't," she said, grin widening. "I'd have heard. You'd have invited me to the wedding, wouldn't you? You know, introduce the old flame to the new."

Remus swallowed. Heather had a manic, almost predatory look in her eyes, and as she brushed his arm with the tips of her fingers and beamed, inching closer as someone edged past them and into the shop, he couldn't help feeling a bit like a cornered animal.

Tell her you have a girlfriend, he thought. A serious, very violent, very jealous, girlfriend.

"You?" he croaked, crossing his fingers and hoping that someone – anyone – had asked her to become their significant other.

"No," she said, stiffening, bristling, a little, at the suggestion, and all of a sudden the bright expression was gone and her bottom lip trembled. "After we broke up," she said, smiling forcedly and gesturing between them with a vague yet rather frantic wave, "I – er – well – I went a bit – I mean you don't need to hear the details." She attempted a laugh that came out breathy and desperate and then rolled her eyes. "And '_crazy_' is a very horrible word."

Remus baulked at what she was implying. They'd always joked about Heather being nuts…. But she couldn't really be, could she?

Although that would explain her selective memory about the troll snot thing, and her interest in his marital status, he thought, because surely no-one in their right mind would care about that after he'd used the words 'gargle troll snot' in a break-up speech.

She pulled a tissue out of her sleeve and sniffed into it, and then fixed some approximation of a bright expression on her face, although it sat ill at ease with the trembling of her bottom lip and the dip in her eyebrows. "There was a brief spell of hospitalisation," she said, waving it away with a shaking hand, "but people make it sound worse than it was. And I'm _fine_ now," she said, punching the air dramatically and beaming, even though there were still tears in her eyes.

Evidently, Remus thought.

His mind turned to escape, and he edged slightly to one side, the words 'well, nice to see you again' half-formed on his lips. Unfortunately, Heather anticipated his move and darted in front of him, her hand on his arm again, her fingers digging insistently into his robes. "We should get a drink," she said, and, worryingly, it didn't sound like a question.

"I'd love to, b – "

"Fantastic!"

"B – "

"We'll have to go to the tea shop," she said, and Remus sighed, making a mental note to be a little quicker off the mark with his 'but's in future. "We can't get an actual, you know, _drink_ drink," she said, leaning in and peering at him conspiratorially through her hair, "because I'm not allowed. Not since – well, you don't want to hear about that. Let's just say me and booze, we've had a bit of a falling out. No alcohol for Heather."

"Marvellous," Remus said, barely bothering to conceal the sarcasm because he knew she wouldn't register it anyway. The one thing he needed right now was a stiff drink, and he couldn't have one because he'd turned her from a raving lunatic to a raving, alcoholic, lunatic.

"People make a big thing of it," she said, shaking her head and smiling with far too much enthusiasm, "but, you know, everyone has their foibles, their little weaknesses."

Remus smiled and nodded faintly in understanding. He wasn't certain alcoholism could be dismissed as a foible, but she was looking at him in expectation of a reply, and he couldn't seem to think of any actual words that would be an adequate fit for the situation. He managed a 'hmm', and forced a smile.

"This is going to be so much fun," Heather said, bouncing on her toes and taking his arm.

Somehow, Remus doubted it.

* * *

Remus had spent so long fake-smiling that his cheeks were starting to hurt. He'd always hated Madam Puddifoot's, and being trapped there with Heather while she regaled him with tales of her struggles with addiction and a number of medical conditions he was fairly certain she'd made up wasn't doing anything to soften his opinion. He stared at the tea pot, willing it to be empty, even though he knew Heather had ordered a large one and they'd only had a cup each.

As she droned on, he willed it to turn into a Portkey and take him anywhere but here – or to explode and scald him hideously so he'd have an excuse to get away from her. She'd been telling him in detail about her life for what felt like hours, even though he'd tried his best to be as politely disinterested as possible.

"So after that – that would have been, what, around 1980, when all that silly business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was going on – "

Remus raised an eyebrow at her words, two thoughts conflicting in his head. The first was that the shiver of annoyance that had passed through him when she referred to it as 'all that silly business' was probably the best thing he'd felt since he encountered her, and the second was that she was probably going to take him through her life year by year unless he could think of a way to stop her.

"So, Heather," he said, knowing that she'd only stopped to take a breath and not really caring. "Do you have a job at all?"

"Oh no," she said, laughing as if he'd just asked if she had a holiday home on Mars. "Not with my nerves. What about you?"

"Teaching, actually," he said, sensing a glimmer of hope in a change of subject, "at Hogwarts."

Heather's eyes lit up. "Oh that's fantastic," she said. "Maybe I'll pop in some time and see you. I'm always here, at least once a week, you know, making a nuisance of myself, keeping the apothecary in business."

Brilliant, Remus thought. He'd hoped for a simple change of subject – to perhaps share with her some of the amusing anecdotes he'd collected – but now she knew where to find him. He closed his eyes in a brief wince, half-hoping the job _was_ cursed after all, just so he could make his escape, at the very latest, at the end of the year.

When he opened his eyes again, Heather was staring at him – possibly waiting for an invitation to the castle, he thought, or, possibly something more frightening involving the kind of thing she used to drag him up the Astronomy Tower to do.

He racked his brain for something to say – anything – but his brain appeared to have flown in fright – a feeling he hadn't experienced in a while, but was all too familiar under Heather's icy blue stare, just the same.

She poured him another cup of tea, and he thanked her, wondering exactly how much tea he was obliged to drink before making his excuses. "Terrible business this Sirius stuff," she said, leaning in again. "I mean if he was insane, you'd have thought I'd have known it."

The words 'takes one to know one' danced through Remus' mind, although he found it nowhere near as humorous as he might have in other circumstances. He hummed non-commitally, because he didn't really want to think about it – let alone talk about, let alone talk about it with someone like Heather. "Do you think they'll catch him?" she said.

Remus offered her a twisted smile, wanting to say that Sirius had done what everyone thought was impossible, and so he doubted that a handful of Dementors and a squad of Aurors were likely to trouble him. "I daresay they're doing all they can," he said.

He and Dumbledore had talked about it, of course. He'd wondered if he should confess that Sirius had weapons in his arsenal no-one knew about – not least the ability to turn into a large black dog…. But when it came to Sirius, that could be very much the least of their troubles – he'd had years of indoctrination into the Dark Arts from his family – been surrounded by a library packed with Merlin knew what, and he had an imagination, a way of seeing the potential in magic that rivalled the most inventive witches and wizards of all time. There was no telling what he might do, although Remus would have staked most of his possessions, if not his life, on the Ministry not having the faintest idea what they were up against.

Luckily, Heather didn't seem to want to press the matter or hear his theories on how and why Sirius Black had done what he'd done. "It's been so nice to see you," she said, smiling at him rather more coyly than he'd have thought her capable of. "I think about you all the time."

Remus swallowed. He'd welcomed the change of subject, felt a fleeting moment of relief – the thought had even flitted through his mind that perhaps, _perhaps_, he and Heather could be friends – but there was no way the news that she thought about him could be construed as good. "Do you?" he said, his voice back to its pre-pubescent squeak. He cleared his throat.

"Do you think about me?"

Remus swallowed again, pondering his response carefully and staring into his tea cup, hoping for a moment of tea-based inspiration Trelawney would be proud of.

He quickly came to the conclusion that there was no good answer to the question – if he told the truth, that for years she'd been a running joke amongst his friends and other than that she'd only cropped up in his nightmares, she'd probably stab him to death with her tea spoon, and if he said yes but left off the context, she'd probably drag him to the jeweller's and try and force him to fork out for an engagement ring. "Erm – "

"Do you believe in fate, Remus?"

Somewhere in the dusty corners of his mind, Remus seemed to remember having this conversation before. If memory served, she'd had him pinned to the wall of the Astronomy Tower. He hadn't quite known what to say then, either. "No," he said, on some instinctual whim.

"Oh."

Heather's face fell, and in spite of how nuts she was, he couldn't stand leaving it like that, even though he half knew he was just making trouble for himself by uttering another word. "I suppose I don't really like the idea of not being in control of my own destiny," he said. "I don't like the idea that the choices I make aren't choices, that I'm just ticking some fate-picked box on my way through whatever it has planned for me."

As he looked up and met her eye, he thought there was a chance that, with the exception of the thing about the troll snot, that might have been the longest sentence he'd ever said to Heather. She regarded him cautiously for a minute, and then leant forward, her elbows on the table. "That's so romantic," she said, beaming. Apparently the resounding '_what?_' he was feeling was evident on his face, because she continued. "You want to be with somebody because you choose to be, you know, because you feel a connection, not because fate or whatever has predestined it. That's really special."

Remus made a noise he was pretty sure he'd never made before – a quiver in his vocal chords that combined fear, surprise and possibly a note of desperation. He reached for his tea cup and drained it, wondering how she'd discovered this ability to misconstrue everything he said to mean what she wanted to hear. He was about to gesture to his empty cup and say that he really had to be going – marking to do, that kind of thing, when she reached across the table and placed her hand over his. "It's such a huge piece of luck we ran into each other," she said. He couldn't disagree, although for his money it had been a huge piece of bad luck, rather than anything else. "I don't normally come here on Tuesdays," she said, squeezing his arm a little. "Normally I don't venture out until Thursday, but this week I fancied a change for no particular reason. Isn't that strange?"

Remus made the noise he'd never made before again and made a mental note to steer well clear of Hogsmeade on a Thursday, forever.

"Well," he said, slowly withdrawing his arm. He thought if he left now, there was a chance – an outside chance – that he might do so with his dignity intact and his conscience reasonably untroubled. "It's been nice to see you, Heather, but I have to get back. I've got hours of marking – "

"I'll walk back with you," she said, before he'd even had time to get to his feet and begin his half-planned platitudes and goodbyes.

He sighed quietly to himself, thinking that nothing that involved Heather was ever going to leave him with his dignity intact, and his conscience untroubled, and offered her a taut smile and stood up, picking his way through the old ladies that frequented Puddifoot's on a Tuesday afternoon and onto the street.

Dusk was falling, and though the change from the usual five o'clock rush was barely perceptible, people hurried in the face of the encroaching darkness, shooting dirty looks at the notices about Dementors in the shop windows.

Heather, however, apparently had no such qualms or eagerness to get home in a hurry, and as they set off for the castle, dawdled. "I think we should definitely do this again," she said, clasping her hands under her chin and beaming at him.

"I – er – "

Remus tried to think of an excuse – a reason why that would never be possible, ever again, but all he really wanted to say was 'Sorry, but I just don't want to'.

Stopping, he winced, racking his brain for an excuse, and she smiled at him expectantly. "The thing is," he said, realising too late that he didn't really know what _the thing_ was – in fact, he hadn't the faintest idea. He wondered if it was too late to say the thing about the very aggressive, possessive girlfriend. "I don't have a lot of free time presently."

He sent silent pleas for her to take the hint – as any normal woman surely would – and back away gracefully, without a scene, or something that would keep him up at night, calling himself a git. "That's alright," she said. "I'll come to you."

Of course she would, he thought, because when it came to Heather, the fate he really didn't believe in hated him.

He sighed, still sending silent pleas for her to take his not-so-subtle signs of disinterest just far enough to heart for him to not walk away from this feeling like a total bastard. He pressed his lips together, meeting Heather's eye, willing her to sense that he really didn't want to have to set eyes on her ever, ever again. "It wouldn't be any effort," she said, "not for the man I love."

Remus' stomach flipped over – and not in a good way, a way that signalled excitement or pleasure at the thought that someone had just uttered a word normally associated with such feelings.

It was panic. She'd sent his organs into blind, unadulterated panic. "The man you love?" he said, his tone somewhere between rent with anguish and completely disbelieving, because even for Heather, this was spectacularly nuts. "Heather, we haven't seen each other in fifteen years."

"I know," she said, grinning and nodding at him as she edged closer. "And yet everything feels just like it used to. Spooky."

She shifted closer still, and instinctively he backed away, finding himself jostled by an old lady leaving Madam Puddifoot's for his trouble. He grimaced an apology, not wanting, really, to back himself against the shop front for fear of what Heather might do to him.

He took a deep breath – he knew he was being ridiculous, and that really, a man of his age who'd faced what he'd faced and lived to tell the tale really should be able to handle one slightly psychotic ex-girlfriend. "I didn't exactly enjoy the way things were before," he said. "That's why I – er – ended things."

He'd tried to sound neutral – kind, even, but he knew that however he pitched his voice and however carefully he chose his words, there was going to be a certain amount of drama here in front of the tea shop, and there was nothing he could do but brace for it.

He chanced a look at Heather – whose face fell and bottom lip trembled – and was suddenly consumed by a sinking feeling in his stomach, a little bit akin to lighting the fuse on a firework. "You were the love of my life, Remus," she hissed, her voice quiet and yet retaining all of the qualities of a full-on shriek. Several people turned to glare at him.

"I wasn't," he said, rather too defensively. Heather glowered.

"How do you know?" she said, her voice so high pitched he could barely make out the individual words.

"Because I didn't – don't – have those kind of feelings – for you," he said, "and I can't help feeling it'd be a mutual thing."

Tears glistened in Heather's eyes, made all the more apparent by the encroaching dusk, and he swallowed. He hadn't really meant to say that, even though it was the truth.

Heather let out a dry and rather anguished sob, and nearly everyone glared at him as they scurried past. He winced. "Please don't cry," he said. Even to him it sounded feeble.

He reached into his pocket and offered her his hanky, and she took it and looked up, eyes streaming. "I can't believe you're breaking up with me again."

"I'm not," he stammered.

"You're not?" she said, her eyes oddly hopeful through the tears.

He realised a second too late what she thought he'd meant.

_Hell._

"I mean, we're not together, are we?" he said, gently. "So I can't be breaking up with you."

"Why?" she wailed.

"Well, if we're not together – " He paused, wondering why – how – it was that he was having to explaining this, and the thought that maybe it was _him_ who was nuts flitted through his mind.

Arguing with Heather had always been like arguing with the rain; utterly futile, completely annoying, and with the distinct possibility that he might drown. Except that the rain never pressed itself against him in what he supposed was intended to be a sexy way and its fingers never made for his thigh, which was always what she did as a last resort.

Heather dabbed at her eyes with his hanky. "Why aren't we together?"

Because you're nuts, he thought.

"We're just – as people – far too different," he said.

Heather seemed to consider what he was saying for a moment, but then her face brightened as if she'd just had a very good idea. It was the same face she'd made when she'd insisted that she should come home with him to meet his parents, and for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, it frightened him more than the tears. She stepped closer, pressing herself against him. "We could get a room at the Three Broomsticks? Or we could go back to the castle," she said, peering up at him through her hair in a way he suspected he was supposed to find endearing. "We could talk, or we could, you know – "

"Look, Heather, it's not that I don't – " He paused. Her fingers settled on his hip, and he let out a surprised gasp that he thought, on reflection, she may well have interpreted as something else. It was no time for pauses. "It's not that the thought doesn't have its merits," he said. It had, after all, been a while. "I just don't think that it would be a very good idea."

"Why not?"

"Well, because, I don't think I'm really in a position to consider a relationship at the moment."

"I'll wait," she said. "We'll take things slowly."

"It's not – "

"Maybe once we start – "

"I really don't think – "

"We could just try."

Remus sighed. Ideally he'd just like to Apparate away and then deal with his thoughts about what an unspeakable coward he was later, but since her fingers were slowly inching towards places it was quite unsuitable for them to be in a public setting, he knew he should take evasive, and decisive action.

He liked to think that he had grown, as a person, since he was eighteen.

He liked to think that he would never again have to use the words 'gargle troll snot' to get away from someone, and yet he couldn't help feeling, as her hand made its way into rather dangerous position, that he was in danger of being lost for other words.

"Heather," he said, adopting his best strict professor tone in the hope that it might make him feel more like a grown up. "I've tried not to hurt your feelings – "

"I know – you're always very considerate. It's what I like – love about y– "

"No, Heather, you see – well, I've tried to be nice about this – " She opened her mouth to say something, and Remus decided it was now or never – say what he thought he had to to get rid of her, or be stuck with her forever, and however much chagrin he felt at the idea of the life of a solitary bachelor, it was infinitely preferable to one where Heather called him darling. He took a quick steadying breath. "I'm sorry, but I fear there's really no other way, so – do you remember what I said to you the last time I saw you?"

Heather frowned, although her hand had dropped away, which seemed like some kind of progress. "The thing about gargling troll snot?" she said.

"Yes."

"Of course I do. That was the most hurtful thing anyone had ever said to me."

Remus swallowed. It was for the best, he told himself. Cruel to be kind. "Well, I'm very sorry," he said. "But I meant it, and it still applies."

Both of Heather's hands flew to her mouth and she let out a loud, rasping sob.

"Now if you'll excuse me," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster.

Remus edged past her, wincing in embarrassment, and guilt, and a couple of other emotions he couldn't quite identify, balling his fists to try and release some of the tension in his body, and set off across the cobbles.

Behind him, he could vaguely hear Heather crying, but he knew he couldn't afford to turn around, that she'd take it the wrong way. He sighed, and started his trudge back up the road towards Hogwarts, wondering how it was possible that he'd caused the same disaster with the same girl _twice_. Even for him, that was – he wasn't even sure what the word was. Special? Above and beyond? Spectacular romantic ineptitude?

He looked up at the clouds on the horizon, tinged with autumn pink, and wondered if, somewhere, Lily, James and Peter were having a good laugh at his expense.

* * *

**A/N: Cheers to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and I hope you enjoyed this one, and Heather's bad penny appearance. Reviewers get one werewolf, trapped in a tea shop of their choosing ;).   
**

**If anyone has a Live Journal account and fancies a challenge, Bratanimus and I have set up a new community (Red And The Wolf – there's link on my LJ, which is listed in my profile) for Remus, Lily, Marauder genfic, and Remus/Lily romance. Our first fic event is Tales of Sin and Virtue, and the prompts are up, if anyone fancies taking part. **


	13. Old Friends, and New Beginnings

Remus crossed the field, humming a tune to himself that he'd been trying all day to remember the name of. It still wouldn't come to him.

The village had been quieter than he'd expected, enabling him to pick up what he needed in record time, although he was still very much looking forward to getting back and having a nice cup of tea.

He rolled his eyes at the thought. It was pathetic – even by his own very high standards – that a cup of tea would probably be the highlight of his day, although finally remembering the name of that tune would probably be a contender to top it, which was no less pathetic, actually, when he thought about it.

Of course, Dolores Umbridge and her cronies might come knocking again, he thought, demanding information on Sirius' whereabouts and talking in reverent voices about the new restrictions on 'his kind' they were planning – and if he was really, really lucky, they'd have popped round while he was out and would by now have found a little something in his stead –

He grinned at the thought.

Well _then_, he thought, his day would pick up immeasurably, because getting his own back on Dolores Umbridge in whatever small ways he could was his new favourite pastime. On reflection he thought that maybe that wasn't really any less pathetic than looking forward to a cup of tea, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

The trees swayed above him, bristling in the breeze, and behind him, Remus heard the padding of paws on grass and a faint panting, which got less and less faint as the minutes passed. When he finally looked back, expecting to see a stray terrier or perhaps one of old-what's-her-face's Alsatians, all too familiar eyes met his, and eventually, the big, black dog caught up with him.

"Hello old friend," Remus said, and the dog responded by leaning on his leg. Remus paused to scratch the top of his head for a moment, but then quickened his pace, because whatever had brought Sirius to Norfolk, it was unlikely to be good news.

They reached the front door after a moment, and Remus let Sirius dart past his legs and go in first, and then closed and sealed the door behind them, checking the surrounding fields and the woods beyond for any sign that they were being watched. The wards he'd set as he left were undisturbed, though, and for once, he was glad Umbridge wasn't on his doorstep, drenched in whatever he'd left for her.

Remus crossed the lounge with his heart in his throat, and pulled the shabby red velvet curtains closed, shutting out the hazy sunlight, before nodding to Sirius, and watching as he sprang up, a man where seconds earlier there had been a shaggy, black dog.

Sirius looked as pale and thin as he had when Remus had encountered him after his stint in Azkaban, and although his eyes had lost some of their haunted look, it still surprised him that Sirius didn't look exactly as he had at twenty-two. The lines on his face seemed foreign, somehow, although his hair, unkempt as it was, still seemed to hang with unnatural grace. Remus could tell that something had rattled him, though – it was written into every inch of his expression, and his fists were balled at his sides. "Sirius?" he said. "What's wrong?"

"He's back," Sirius said.

And there they were – the two words Remus had always dreaded: _he's back_. He didn't need to be told who _he_ was – the look of fear and resentment in Sirius' eyes was enough to tell him unquestioningly. Voldemort.

Remus ran a hand along his jaw, steeling himself. "How do you know?"

"Harry saw him."

"Harry?"

Remus felt a shiver of horror run through him, and as Sirius recounted the tale of the Triwizard tournament, Peter's sacrifice, Cedric Diggory and all that had happened, Remus went into the small kitchen, tossed the provisions he'd bought in the village onto the counter, and poured them both a large drink.

He handed the stout glass of Firewhiskey to Sirius, indicating that he should sit, and Sirius sank into the armchair by the fireplace, cradling his drink on his knee. Remus sat at his desk, and, for a moment, they just looked at each other, thinking, _feeling_ the same thing.

It was barely believable that Voldemort was back, and yet they both knew it was as real as anything, that one day soon, they'd be able to feel his presence in the very air. He knew it wasn't a feeling either of them particularly relished the opportunity to experience again. "We all knew it might happen one day," Remus said, just to say something, but even to his own ears, it sounded hollow.

"I know," Sirius replied. "Having suspected it would happen doesn't lessen the shock though, does it?"

Remus shook his head and downed his Firewhiskey, and Sirius did the same.

He's back, Remus thought – but it seemed too big a concept to hold in his head, and so he _Summoned_ the bottle of Firewhiskey from the kitchen and re-filled their glasses. They'd always known it was a possibility – Dumbledore had always had theories that he wasn't really gone, but –

It didn't help with the numbness. And Harry –

"How's Harry?" he said.

"Honestly, mate, I haven't the faintest," Sirius said. "Dumbledore seems to think he's coping as well as can be expected but the things he saw…."

Sirius shook his head in disbelief and trailed off, and Remus felt the same pang he knew resonated in Sirius, too. There were some things that, once seen, haunted a person forever – they both knew that better than anyone. And Harry had already dealt with so much – he was so young to have to cope with the death of someone his own age.

Remus raised his glass to his lips and took a large gulp, and Sirius did too, before setting his glass on the dark, stone hearth and sinking back into his chair. Sighing a little, Sirius cast his eyes around the room, across the overstuffed bookshelves, the tatty furniture that had once been rather more stately, the paperwork scattered across the desk.

He'd been here before, of course, in the summer when they were at Hogwarts. The place hadn't changed much, partly because Remus didn't really have the money and partly because he liked it as it was, and as Sirius smiled slightly, taking in the details, Remus couldn't help thinking that he was grateful for a little familiarity.

Sirius' eyes widened as they rested on a picture on the mantelpiece – the two of them, Peter, James and Lily in the woods, the year they left Hogwarts. It had been taken just after Remus had managed to get rid of Heather, and they'd had a bit of an impromptu party to celebrate, with Muggle beer and crisps he'd procured from The Poplars. "I can't believe we were ever that young," Sirius said, gesturing to the picture.

"Hmm."

For a moment, Sirius seemed lost in thought, and Remus wondered what he was thinking about – whether it was the water-balloons he'd learned to make and the girls whose hearts he'd broken here, or a hundred other tiny memories, insignificant but for the fact that they belonged to a time _before_, before they'd had bigger things to worry about than their ages had ever warranted.

Truly, they'd never been as young, felt as young, as they looked in pictures.

Remus sighed at the thought that now, they had to prepare to fight the same fight all over again. "I suppose the real question about Voldemort," Remus said, "is: what are we going to do about him?"

Sirius' eyes returned to his in an instant, and he grinned. "I was hoping you'd say something like that," he said.

"Something like what?"

"Something fiery."

"Well I'm not just going to stand by – "

"I never expected you would," Sirius said, holding up his hand defensively, still grinning. "That's why I'm here. Dumbledore's recalling the Order of The Phoenix."

"If memory serves," Remus said quietly, smiling faintly and avoiding Sirius' gaze as he tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, "there aren't many of us left to recall."

He sat back in his chair, swirling the Firewhiskey around in his glass, watching as the sunlight made its way between the curtains and caused tiny amber flares in the liquid. He warmed it a little against his palm, and Sirius sighed sadly.

How many had they lost?

How many would they lose this time?

How many of them were there, even?

Voldemort would build an army, and they'd never been able to match his numbers. So many people hid, not wanting to face the facts, hoping that keeping a low profile would keep them from Voldemort's spotlight and out of harm's way, but –

Sirius cleared his throat, and Remus looked up. "The Weasleys are on board this time," he said, "and Dumbledore wants me to contact Arabella Figg and Dung. I thought it might be better if you did it – Dung'd probably barely bat an eyelid, but I'm not sure how Mrs Figg would take to getting a Patronus from a wanted mass-murderer."

Remus rubbed his fingers across his chin, wanting to snigger at the thought of Mrs Figg batting Sirius' Patronus with her handbag, but knowing that really, it was no sniggering matter. He set his glass down, the drink untouched, on the desk next to some papers he'd been absentmindedly flicking through that morning – only the ideas scribbled on them now seemed as if they belonged to another person, another lifetime.

Recalling the Order, finding new members – it all seemed vaguely surreal. And Diggory. He'd _taught_ Diggory – he'd been very able –

"Then what?" Remus said. "After we recall everyone who's left?"

"I think Dumbledore's got plans," Sirius said. "He wants me to lie low here until he contacts us – if that's all right."

Remus nodded. He took out his wand, and, thinking of a conversation he'd had with his friends long ago when they'd told him it didn't matter what he was, he _Conjured_ several Patronuses. The first two, destined for Dung and Mrs Figg got the same message – _he's back, so are we, please await further instruction, _while the third, destined for Dumbledore said _– Sirius here, all well._

And it was a lie – everything was very far from all well, but –

"Are you sure you don't mind me staying?" Sirius said, frowning slightly at Remus across the room, perhaps misinterpreting the crease Remus could feel on his forehead as consternation at having his plans disrupted. "I won't be in the way?"

"Of what?" Remus asked, his eyebrows high on his forehead with incredulity. "I must have missed the queue of women outside desperate to take me out for the evening, not to mention the scrum of people beating their way to my door to offer me gainful employment."

Sirius raised his eyebrows a little in amusement. "There's no need for sarcasm, Moony," he said, his voice laced with a latent chuckle.

"There's every need for sarcasm," Remus said. "That bloody Umbridge woman and her stupid decrees. You know I'm not allowed within a hundred feet of a children's playground now?"

Sirius' upper lip twitched, his expression one of gentle challenge. "Do you ever go to children's playgrounds?"

"That's not the point," Remus said tersely, feeling the familiar flair of Umbridge-inspired bile in his chest. "I've got a good mind to go and play on the swings just to spite her, have her throw me in Azkaban for swinging with intent. You know she's been here eight times looking for you? She keeps giving me the speech about creatures of my nature being inherently untrustworthy."

"Given that you're harbouring a fugitive, Moony," Sirius said, tipping his glass at him, "I'd say she had a point."

In spite of himself, in spite of everything, Remus laughed. Sirius always had had a way of deflating his indignation, and whatever else was wrong with the world, it was nice to have him back.

They shared a chuckle for a moment, and then Sirius' face became rather more serious. "She hasn't given you any real trouble, has she?"

"If anything, more the other way round," Remus said, and Sirius raised an eyebrow at him in question, the briefest hint of a smile playing on his lips. "After her third visit," Remus said, smiling a little at the thought himself, "I took the liberty of placing some extra charms on the place to keep it safe whenever I nipped out. She took the rapid-fire bombardment of slugs rather well, I thought – the waterfall of troll snot less so."

Sirius threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. "That'll teach her to mess with a Marauder."

"As I told her, what else was I supposed to do with all my new found free time?" Remus said.

Sirius grinned, and Remus took a sip of his drink, feeling to all intents and purposes sixteen again, as if he was back in the Gryffindor common room, surprising Sirius and James with his plans to invent a cruciferous vegetable head hex to get his own back on David sodding Reynolds. "She hasn't found anything out yet – about me, or..?" Sirius said.

"And she's not going to," Remus said, gesturing to the papers on the desk. "I've been very busy making this place safe from her and her cronies."

Sirius nodded, and then frowned in thought, sank back in his chair, his lips pursed and his eyes alert, yet far away, too. It was a look Remus knew only too well. "What is it?" he said.

"What's what?" Sirius said, with rather impressive feigned ignorance.

"You've just had one of your bright ideas."

Sirius smirked, leaning forward again and regarding Remus mischievously. "You know," he said, "I think I might have."

"Is this one of your _bright _bright ideas or one of your stupid bright ideas?"

"Definitely the latter," Sirius said proudly, and Remus chuckled. "Why don't you make me something to eat and I'll tell you all about it."

Remus leant back in his chair and regarded Sirius for a moment, trying to figure out what on earth he might be thinking. Sirius crossed his arms and pursed his lips, deep in thought, his eyes flashing beneath his matted hair. If it was a prank for Umbridge he was cooking up, Remus thought, that'd be worth at least a four course dinner.

Regardless of what Sirius had in mind, thanks to the Firewhiskey, Remus' blood was starting to feel very loud in his veins, and so he thought something to eat might not be a bad idea. He got to his feet and crossed the lounge, slipping into the small adjoining kitchen and routing through the supplies he'd bought in the village. He hadn't banked on a guest for dinner – why would he have, when he hadn't had a visitor here since –

He sighed, realising that he hadn't had company for so long, he couldn't even remember who or when it was.

Was 'pathetic' even a strong enough word for what he was?

Glancing at the things he'd bought and the contents of his cupboards, there was only one thing that seemed to fit the bill, and ten minutes later, Remus presented Sirius with a bacon, chill sauce and fried egg sandwich.

Sirius looked up at him, grinning. "You read my mind," he said, picking up one of the sandwiches and biting into it, egg yolk dripping down his chin. Remus went back to his chair at the desk, and ate his sandwich a little more decorously. Sirius always had eaten like a recently-released convict, even before he was anything of the sort, and ergo Remus had never really liked sitting opposite him at mealtimes. "So what is it?" Remus said. "Your bright idea?"

Sirius wiped chilli sauce off his plate with his crust and popped it into his mouth before answering. "We'll need a headquarters, right?" he said. "If we're reforming."

"Right," Remus said, glancing around the room with a frown. "I'm not sure it's big enough. I mean maybe we could try a charm to enlarge – "

"I wasn't thinking of here," Sirius said. "I was thinking of Grimmauld Place."

"Your parents' house?"

"Actually, mine," Sirius said quietly.

Remus raised an eyebrow in rather surprised acknowledgement, and then rolled the idea round in his mind. He never thought he'd live to see the day Sirius Black volunteered to go back to Grimmauld Place – he'd hated it there. "It'd be well protected," he said, thinking of the tales Sirius had told of his father's paranoia.

"Unplottable," Sirius said. "And I'm sure you could beef up the charms with some troll snot waterfalls."

"It's big enough," Remus said, shrugging. "Convenient for Diagon Alley, for people like Kingsley to come from the Ministry."

"So you don't think it's a stupid idea, then?"

"Oh no, I do," Remus said. "I'm sure your mother will have seen to it that there's some nasty surprises. I mean eight years' worth of dust is a frightening enough prospect, but I hate to think what might have bred in there."

"You're supposed to be an expert in the field, though, aren't you?" Sirius said. "Maybe you'll discover a new breed of Dark Creature and they'll name it after you, like the guy who discovered Hinkypunks."

"Just what I need," Remus said, polishing off the last of his sandwich, "to further sully my family name by giving it to a new strain of fire-breathing maggot."

Sirius sniggered, and Remus tossed his plate onto the pile of papers on his desk, and gestured to the Firewhiskey. Sirius nodded and held out his glass, and once Remus had filled it, and then his, Sirius met his eye, holding his glass aloft. "To us," he said. "A pair of down and out, disappointment to our parents, miserable old dogs."

"I'll drink to that," Remus said, knocking his Firewhiskey back.

"You never used to be such an enthusiastic drinker," Sirius said, eying him questioningly, "unless you'd had your heart – what was it?"

"Ripped out of my chest and danced on?"

"That's it," Sirius said. "I think I might have been a bad influence on you."

Remus grinned and refilled their glasses. He was as certain as anything that it had been Sirius and James' influence – bad or otherwise – that had kept him going. They'd taught him that his own rules were the only ones really worth playing by, to trust his own judgement, and that revenge could be really, really sweet when the victim was deserving. Without them, he thought, he'd have buckled to Umbridge's demands and low opinion long ago.

His eyes drifted to the picture on the mantelpiece, and he couldn't help thinking that they really did look very young – happy, too, and it seemed almost unfathomable that the people in the photo had ended up how they had.

It had never sat entirely comfortably with Remus, the idea of Sirius betraying James – but at the time, he'd thought that maybe his brain just couldn't – didn't want to – deal with the thought. As time had gone on, he'd tried to reconcile the two images he had in his mind – Sirius the ever-loyal friend he remembered, and Sirius the mass-murderer, who laughed out at him from the front cover of _The Daily Prophet_. They'd always seemed so very incompatible – but he'd never made the leap to supposing there was a reason for that.

Remus sighed. He supposed now wasn't really the time to dwell on the past.

"Start tomorrow?" Sirius said, shaking him out of his thoughts. "Go and see how grim old Grimmauld is?"

"That's lying low, is it?" Remus said, and Sirius let his head fall back against the back of the armchair as he let out a low chortle.

"For us it is," he said. "Wouldn't do to make Dumbledore an offer to use the place if it's in no fit state, would it?"

"I suppose not. We'll have to be careful – "

"Careful's my middle name, Moony."

"No it's not, it's – "

"Don't you dare say that name out loud."

Sirius glowered and Remus sniggered, holding his hands up in surrender. "And for tonight?" he said, smirking slightly.

"I propose we drink."

"That, sir," Remus said, saluting him with his glass, "sounds like a plan."

"Only flaw being – " Sirius indicated the nearly empty bottle with a wave, and shrugged.

"Leave it to me," Remus said. He took out his wand and pointed it at the bottle, and Sirius stared at it, agog, as it slowly re-filled before his eyes.

"How did you – "

"If you're very, very, nice to me," Remus said, tucking his wand back into his pocket, "I'll show you."

"You always were handy to have around," Sirius said, and Remus grinned.

He topped up their glasses, and they lapsed into an easy silence.

It was odd, Remus thought. They'd harboured so many malevolent feelings about each other, once upon a time, but now – now it felt like they could be back in the Gryffindor common room, although they were both a little greyer and thinner than he suspected either of them had ever expected they'd become. Remus raised his glass in toast. "To – " he paused, trying to think of an appropriate one. " – new beginnings with old friends."

"Getting sentimental in your old age, Moony?"

"Oh yes," Remus said. "But if I don't do it now, I'll miss the window of opportunity and have to pass straight into bitter and twisted despair."

Sirius chuckled, took a sip of his Firewhiskey and settled back in the armchair, shifting his weight and making the chair creak beneath him. "So, Moony," he said, regarding him like a member of an interview panel. "What exactly _have_ you been up to for the last thirteen years?"

"Do you want the blow by blow account or the edited highlights?" he said, rolling his eyes.

"I'll settle for the highlights."

"Read quite a bit," Remus said, falling back in his chair and racking his brains. He frowned when an answer didn't immediately present itself. What exactly _had_ he been doing for the last thirteen years? "And you know about my stint at Hogwarts, obviously."

"Anything else?"

"Replanted the vegetable garden," he offered weakly. "And I went to visit that cousin of mine, the one who lives in the Lake District. Dad died – "

"Oh – I'm sorry – "

Remus smiled faintly. "It's all right," he said. "It was years ago."

"Still – "

Sirius trailed off and offered Remus a smile laced with apology. He nodded in acknowledgement, ran a hand over his face and reached for his Firewhiskey. "What about you?" Remus said. "Do I even want to ask about Azkaban?"

"Depends," Sirius said, with a slightly forced chuckle. "Do you want to be morbidly depressed?"

"More than I am by the prospect of Voldemort's return and the fact that I can't really remember what I've been doing for most of the last decade?"

"You're right," Sirius said. "We're as low as we can go, so I feel no compunction about telling you it's bloody awful there. The food's beyond terrible, the inmates are mind-bogglingly insane – the rooms – "

"Not exactly five wand standard?"

"Not exactly."

They both chuckled, and Remus settled back in his chair, crossing his ankles on the carpet in front of him. "There's no Mrs Moony, then?" Sirius said, raising an eyebrow at him and gesturing to the room. "No pitter-patter of tiny Moonys?"

"I think it's safe to say that my attractiveness to the opposite sex has not increased in the time you've been away."

"Girls always fall for you," Sirius said. "You're just too dense to notice."

"Maybe you'll be good enough to point them out to me, then," Remus said, "so I don't step on them as they swoon at my feet."

Sirius rolled his eyes and sighed as if he'd been expecting just such an answer. "I bet you were the teacher all the girls fancied when you taught at Hogwarts," he said.

"What does that prove?" Remus said. "My only real competition was Snape."

"So you were, then?" Sirius said, his eyes lighting up.

"I don't know," Remus said, looking away as he felt a blush creep up his face. "A couple of seventh year girls did seem awfully keen to brush up on their basic defensive spells."

"I bet you liked it when they called you Professor," Sirius said, sniggering into his glass exactly as he had done the first time he'd stumbled across an edition of _PlayWitch_. Remus glared at him, but that just made him snigger more vociferously. "I don't suppose you took advantage of the situation to teach them anything other than basic defensive spells?"

Remus glared at him again, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow in disdain. "I'd have thought a stint in Azkaban would've been enough to make you re-set your moral compass," he said. "Apparently not. You still have the morals of a randy stoat."

"I'm wounded," Sirius said, theatrically clutching his chest, and then grinning.

He considered Remus for a moment, one eyebrow arching as he took him in, bouncing his fingers on his chin. "Maybe I should make it my new mission to find you a woman."

"Please don't."

Remus had never really understood why Sirius took such a great interest in his love-life, especially given that for most of his life it had been pretty much non-existent. "Why not?" Sirius said. "It'd give me a warm glow to think of you all happy and settled down with someone. And you can't deny this place could do with a woman's touch."

"Again I say _please don't_."

"I think you'd make someone a lovely husband," Sirius said, gritting his teeth against a large grin.

"Drink your whiskey," Remus said.

"See?" Sirius said, obligingly taking a sip.

"Oh yes. A lovely husband who turns into a monster every month. I can almost hear the scramble to apply now."

"You've got a lot to offer, you know," Sirius said.

"Oh yes," Remus said. "I'm the wrong side of thirty with nothing to show for it but too many books and a troll snot waterfall – there's my employment situation, or lack thereof, the fact that I've just signed up to a secret organisation that'll probably result in me getting killed and, of course, my best friend, the wanted murderer. I'm surprised there's not a stampede."

"Well if you will only look at the negative," Sirius said, laughing.

Remus studied the desk. "I'm fine on my own," he said. "I'm happy."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius raise his eyebrows at him in amused disbelief, and Remus had to admit, he hadn't really sounded remotely convincing. "All right then, not happy as such," Remus said, shaking his head. "But I'm ok."

"Well we'll see," Sirius said, leaning back in his chair with a look in his eyes that said Remus would one day come to rue this conversation.

"What are you plotting?"

"Nothing specific."

"I'll take a general overview for now," Remus said.

"You deserve to be happy."

"And a man can't be happy on his own?"

"I think we both know the answer to that one," Sirius said.

They exchanged half-embarrassed glances, and then Remus gave a conciliatory nod of his head. Sirius beamed and they clinked glasses again before downing their drinks. "Is there anyone you've got your eye on?"

"Eligible women don't exactly cross my path on a daily basis," Remus said, "unless you count Miss Minton from the greengrocer's. She pinched my bottom once, after she'd had one too many sherries at Christmas."

"Sounds promising," Sirius said.

"She's a hundred and five," Remus said, rolling his eyes at Sirius and shivering at the recollection. "Hands like pincers."

"Anyone else?"

"Not that I can think of."

Sirius murmured in thought. "What happened to that girl? The one you really liked? Y'know, before – "

"Nothing," Remus said, looking away and shaking his head. "Fizzled out."

"Oh."

Remus took a mouthful of Firewhiskey to swallow the guilt that had formed into a lump in his throat. It wasn't that he'd intentionally set out to hide what had happened with Malina from Sirius, the question had just surprised him a little, and he wasn't sure he could face explaining what had happened. Especially not to Sirius, who had always had such optimism on his behalf that out there, somewhere, was a girl who wouldn't care what he was, just as his friends hadn't. Confessing that he hadn't even told her, given her the chance not to care – well, he wasn't really in the mood for a lecture.

Sirius' brow wrinkled in thought for a moment, and then he grinned at Remus with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I would, you know, with you, if I was a girl. Or even now, maybe, if you get me drunk enough."

Remus laughed, and Sirius sniggered as he snatched the bottle off the desk and refilled their glasses. "As you have the morals of a randy stoat," Remus said, "I'm not sure I find that particularly comforting."

Sirius looked mildly affronted for a moment, and then his expression gave way to one of a rather more puzzled nature. "Are stoats even particularly randy?" he said. "You know, more randy than weasels, say, or mink?"

"I don't know," Remus said.

"Then why do you keep saying it?"

"It just suits you."

Sirius seemed to accept the argument, and Remus knocked back his Firewhiskey, blinking furiously to try and bring the room back into focus. "I think I'm drunk," he said, and Sirius pushed his hair out of his eyes and squinted, considering his response for a moment.

"Me too," he said, and they both sniggered. "Do you fancy a drinking game?"

"Why not?" Remus said.

It was the last thing he remembered with any real clarity.

* * *

Remus woke to the sound of pounding. Assuming for a second that it was someone at the door, he sat up, clutching at the crick in his neck, and immediately wishing that he hadn't moved. The pounding, it appeared, was in his own head. 

He noted, rather numbly, that a piece of parchment was stuck to his cheek, and so he slowly peeled it off, letting out a slow groan and wondering, vaguely, if it was him who was spinning, or the room. He wasn't entirely sure which was the more likely scenario, and so he decided not to think about it and went back to massaging his neck.

He really was far too old to be passing out face-down on desks. He shifted in this seat, the chair emitted a loud squeak, and across the room, Sirius woke with a start. He blinked a couple of times and then raised his hand to his head, pressing his fingers into his forehead and letting out a guttural moan. "Yay Gads, Remus," he murmured. "What did you do to me?"

"You're the one who suggested a drinking game," Remus muttered. "It's not my fault there's not much you've never done."

"As I recall," Sirius said, glaring at him half-heartedly, "you didn't do so badly yourself, so don't play the innocent with me, Moony."

Remus ran a hand over his face and looked away, sniggering slightly, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius stretch in the chair, and then get to his feet, clutching at his lower back. He swayed violently on the spot for a moment, and then grabbed the mantelpiece to steady himself. "That was a bad idea," he said, and Remus murmured his agreement, although not particularly loudly.

Remus shifted in his seat, taking Sirius' advice not to get up straight away, and experimentally rolled his shoulders to see if that alleviated the stiffness in his neck.

It didn't – and that tune was back, the one he couldn't remember the name of, but he pushed it and its annoyingly catchy riff aside, unable to focus on more than one thing at once, with the pain in his neck getting his full attention.

Definitely too old to be passing out face-down on desks, he thought, moving his head from side to side and wincing as his muscles complained. He was only slightly comforted by the thought that at least getting drunk with an old friend and laughing at each other's drunken confessions was marginally less pathetic than his plans for the evening – a nice cup of tea and listening to that Muggle music show on the WWN – had been. Even if pathetic had never left him feeling quite this sore….

When he looked up, Sirius was staring at the photo of them all in the woods again, his face lined with something that had nothing to do with a hangover. "We were so young," he said quietly, shaking his head.

"I know. Harry's younger."

Sirius met Remus' eye over his shoulder. "It's not right, is it?" he said, and Remus smiled sadly in agreement.

Sirius' eyes darted back to the picture momentarily, and then he seemed to snap out of whatever thought he had been having, and turned, albeit unsteadily, to face him. "Any more eggs?" he said. "I'm starving."

After a hearty breakfast that neither of them were entirely sure they'd be able to keep down and a quick dose of headache-dulling potion, they both agreed that they were feeling human enough to Apparate to Grimmauld Place without splinching themselves.

Remus hummed quietly to himself as he reached for his volume on tackling domestic pests –

"All You Need Is Love," he said, smacking himself lightly on the forehead.

"What?"

Sirius blinked at him with irritated incomprehension.

"Nothing," Remus said, grabbing the book from the shelf and shrinking it so it would fit in his pocket. "Just – I had it in my head all day yesterday."

"Had what in you head all day yesterday? The idea that all you need is love?" Sirius blinked at him again, and then leaned closer and squinted at him. "Are you still drunk? Or have you turned into a hippie in my absence? I knew I should have _Incendio_-d your Joni Mitchell records."

"No – I had the song stuck in my head yesterday. I just remembered what it was."

Sirius leant back, a confused frown on his brow. "Oh," he said. He looked rather perplexed for a moment, and then brightened. "Well, then," he said, clapping Remus on the back, "let's get Grimmauld over and done with, and then we'll go and see if we can't find you your Yoko Ono – or whoever it was George ended up with."

"Oh don't start that again," Remus said, rolling his eyes.

"Start what?"

"All that stuff about us being the bloody Beatles."

"Why not?" Sirius said. "You're the one who thinks love is all you need…."

"I don't need a – a Yoko Ono."

"Everyone needs a Yoko Ono," Sirius said.

"Well you've changed your tune."

"Yeah well," Sirius said, "what was it you said last night? If I don't get sentimental now, I'll have to go straight to bitterness and despair, and there'll be plenty of that about without throwing your love-life into the mix."

Remus rolled his eyes, and as Sirius changed back into a shaggy black dog and they headed out into the sunshine, Remus half hoped he'd get eaten by a new strain of fire-breathing maggot, just so he wouldn't have to put up with Sirius' attempts at match-making.

_Or_ any of his allusions to them being the Beatles.

But it was really only half a hope, because in spite of everything – the less than ideal circumstances, whatever lay ahead, the clumsy efforts at match-making Sirius would no doubt foist upon him and whichever new female member of the Order caught his attention first – not to mention their imminent demise by fire-breathing maggot and the fact that the last words he'd ever hear would most likely be Sirius shouting 'All you need is love, my arse! All you need is love and a bloody great flame-thrower!' – it was very good to have Sirius Black back in his life.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and sorry it's been such a wait for this one. Anyone kind enough to leave a review gets a Marauder of their choice and a bottle of Firewhiskey, in order to facilitate a drinking game of their choosing ;). **

** And if you enjoyed Sirius' return, ages ago, I wrote a Sirius-POV piece that's a companion to the Hattie Partridge chapter of this story. If you didn't see it then, it's called Clouds In My Coffee, and the link's in my profile. **


	14. Nymphadora Tonks

**A/N: So this is it, the final chapter. Before I get to it, I just wanted to say that this story has always been my absolute favourite to tell, and I'm so pleased so many of you have followed and enjoyed it – thank you xx.**

* * *

They stood on the pavement in front of number 12, Grimmauld Place exchanging a glance – or what would have been a glance, had Sirius not been invisible. 

Their Marauder brains, they'd decided, had rather let them down that morning, and it was only when they'd Apparated to Grimmauld Place that they'd realised that with Sirius in dog form unable to speak, and Remus with no idea how to make the house appear or get inside once it did, they were rather stuck. It hadn't been their best plan ever, Remus thought.

They'd adjourned to the small park in the middle of the square, where Sirius had assumed human form once more and then Disillusioned, which they'd both hoped would be of some help.

And it had been. Marginally.

After much pacing and incessant muttering about how this was all Remus' fault for getting him drunk and muddling up his thoughts with booze, Sirius had remembered the sequence of complex spells to make the house appear on around the fifth attempt, and now they stood, staring at the door.

"So how do we get in?" Remus whispered out of the side of his mouth.

"You just need to put some blood on the doorknob."

"Blood?" Remus said, aghast at the very thought since his stomach still hadn't entirely forgiven him for the previous night's activities.

"Only a drop."

Remus sighed quietly to himself. "Why is it always blood with you people?" he said.

"These are not my people, Moony," Sirius said, rather testily, "any more than they're yours, so just cut yourself or something, flick it at the door and let's go inside before someone spots you talking to yourself and they throw you in St. Mungo's."

"Me?" Remus said. "You want _me_ to do the blood bit?"

"Yes, you."

"Shouldn't this be – I mean it's your house."

"I believe when it comes to the noble and ancient house of Black," Sirius said, "I'm about as persona non grata as you are, so I can't see it matters."

"Of course it matters. It's always like this with you people and your blood – "

"They're _not_ my people."

"As far as your blood's concerned, they are." Sirius drew a breath as if he was about to protest, and so Remus continued, knowing that whatever protest Sirius had in mind, he was really just trying to avoid admitting he didn't want to do it because he was squeamish. "Stop being such a baby. It's just a drop – you said so yourself. Transform again if you want and I'll nick one of your paws – "

"Nick one of my paws?" Sirius said, evidently horrified at the very thought.

"They're less sensitive than hands, aren't they?"

"What do you know about paws?" Sirius said, and Remus turned towards him slightly and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "All right," Sirius said, in a terse but rather apologetic tone, "you might know a thing or two, but you can't really compare them – I mean you've got hardened wolfy paws and mine are more – delicate. Domestic."

"Oh for – "

Remus stopped as a passer-by eyed him – apparently talking to himself – with suspicion. He patted the pockets of his trousers, rolling his eyes in mock-exasperation, hoping to suggest that he was annoyed with himself for forgetting something.

The man frowned and quickened his pace, but even though he'd appeared to buy the act, Remus thought they should really get inside. Sirius was still a wanted man, after all, and it was only a matter of time before someone spotted him talking to himself and decided to find out what he was up to.

Remus wondered what would look more suspicious, him slicing his finger and daubing his own blood on a not-too-sanitary-looking serpent-shaped knocker, Sirius' invisible form doing the same and making blood apparently appear from nowhere, or a dog pressing a bloody paw to the door in full view.

He quickly came to the conclusion that none of the options were significantly better than the others, but as two of them involved listening to Sirius whinge in an attempt to hide his squeamishness, Remus decided he'd better do it himself, even though he really wasn't convinced that anything other than Black blood would work. He surreptitiously took out his wand, slicing the tip of his forefinger with a spell, and shuffled closer to the door, pressing his bleeding finger to the knocker. "I'm not going to have to do this every time we need to come in, am I?" he said, and Sirius sighed impatiently.

"No," he said. "It's just a – I don't know, actually."

"Marvellous," Remus said, rolling his eyes and raising his finger to his lips to suck on his wound. "You better not have forgotten anything – once we're in, we're in. I'm not doing this again."

Sirius murmured some kind of noise of agreement, and Remus frowned at the door. He'd expected something to happen – probably, if he was honest, an ominous creak and the door to swing open while a ghostly voice whispered 'welcome, master', or something – really, nothing would be too spooky for the Blacks – and so when a minute or two passed and nothing did, he couldn't deny he was a little disappointed. He tried the door, but it was unrelenting underneath his fingers and refused to budge. "I don't want to say I told you so," Remus said, "and I don't want to have to go on about the blood thing, but – "

Sirius huffed. "Fine," he said, and then sighed again for good measure. "I just thought – I mean it's so unoriginal – blood – it's stuff like this that made me leave in the first place."

"Stop stalling."

Sirius took a quick breath, and then mouthed the spell to cut his finger.

They'd all learned it, Remus remembered, in their second year, to make a childhood pact of everlasting friendship, dropping their blood onto the roots of a tree in the Hogwarts grounds. The idea that, once upon a time, three boys had wanted to do that for him, with him, to prove that they didn't care what he was still warmed his insides, even though he knew that the evidence of what had transpired later in their lives suggested that the promise of everlasting friendship had meant less to one of them than to the rest.

After that pact, they'd never done it again, deciding that cutting their quill fingers on a school night was very foolish when they didn't have access to the requisite healing spells, and subsequently they'd always settled for a handshake – but it had meant a lot, at the time.

Maybe there was something in the blood thing after all, Remus thought.

Sirius let out an exaggerated gasp as the spell worked, and a drop of blood appeared in mid air, seeming to float towards the door of its own accord.

Remus bit back a retch. Even given the myriad unpleasant things he had to compare it to, it was still a rather unnerving sight.

As Sirius' blood made contact with the doorknocker, there was an ominous creak and the door opened just slightly, and Remus would have smiled, had the ominous creak not been a touch more ominous than he'd been expecting and caused a shiver to race down his spine.

"Well," Sirius said, "shall we?"

Remus cast a quick look at the street behind them to make sure no-one was watching, and then nodded, and they both inched inside.

The hallway was gloomier than he remembered, thick with cobwebs, the air sparkling with dust from a shaft of sunlight down the corridor. The walls seemed to close in on them as they stood there, and as they advanced, slowly, down the hall, closing the door behind them with another ominous creak, the floorboards protested beneath their feet.

Somewhere above them, Remus sensed movement, although he knew he was probably imagining it, because the house had been deserted for years. He swallowed, tightening his grip on his wand regardless of what logic told him, and Sirius reversed his Disillusionment spell and peered down the corridor. "Welcome home," he muttered.

A scream rent the air, and they both jumped, sparks flying from their wands. The noise was deafening, and Remus winced, trying to shut it out, lighting his wand and casting the beam down the corridor, trying to discern the source of the commotion. Whatever it was, he thought, his blood was well and truly curdling at the sound.

A moment passed, and though the screaming continued at a truly horrendous volume, nothing else happened. They'd both expected attack, he thought, as if this was some sort of battle cry, and somehow, it unnerved Remus more that none came.

At first, there were no discernable words, only screeching, and then, as Remus tried to decide which impulse to give into, the one to cover his ears with his hands or to keep a firm grip on his wand, he thought he made out the words 'vile' and 'abomination', although really, they could have been anything. And whatever words they were, the noise certainly wasn't helping with his hangover.

He turned to Sirius. "What the – "

Sirius, however, seemed to know exactly where the noise was coming from, and, ashen-faced, he pointed down the corridor. Remus followed his gaze, throwing his wand light where Sirius was pointing, and Mrs Black's beady eyes met his, her painted face almost purple with rage.

The things she was screeching –

To say it wasn't language befitting a lady would have been a rather large understatement. Remus had met Walburga Black a couple of times in the past, and, unpleasant as their meetings had been, he was finding her all the more unpalatable in death. She'd always been snide, sneered down her nose at him for being a half-blood (although how she could tell just by looking at him Remus had never been entirely sure) but at least she'd never called him a filthy lecherous half-breed to his face.

After the initial shock of coming upon a screaming incarnation of his mother had worn off, Sirius sprang into action, trying first to wrench the painting clean off the wall with brute force, and then hurling every removal spell he could think of at it.

Remus hesitated – partly, he was still in shock and had no desire whatsoever to further damage his hearing by getting closer to the thing, but he also wasn't sure whether or not he should intervene in what was, essentially, a family matter. Sirius, however, seemed to have other ideas. "Bloody hell, Moony," he shouted, "are you going to stand there like a gormless wanker all day or come and help me?"

Much as Remus would have liked to remain where he was – or, in fact, go back outside and then home to bed – he joined Sirius in front of the painting, wincing as Mrs Black's screeches tore at his ears. He tried everything he could think of – Silencing charms, charms to remove the voice from objects like mirrors, even _Muffliato_ – and after that, he tried things he really didn't hold out any great hope for, talking to the portrait in a soothing voice and even offering to move it to a better location away from all the nasty dust.

But nothing worked.

They were just about to attempt to blast the thing regardless of whether or not the force of their joint spell would bring the whole house down – really, they agreed, anything for a moment's peace – when, with an indignant wail, something small with pointed ears lurched itself over the banister at them. It went straight for Sirius, screaming about violations and how the ungrateful brat dared to besmirch his family home with his very presence, and it was a moment, Remus thought, until either of them realised what – who – it was.

"Kreacher?"

"The filthy traitor dares to say Kreacher's name? Dares to defile his dear mother's memory with these spells? Master must not – "

There was a brief, dusty, scuffle – Remus thought at one point Kreacher had Sirius' arm in his mouth, and at another, Sirius landed a kick on Kreacher's shin – but between Kreacher's muffled epithets of Black family lore, the dust cloud the kafuffle created and Mrs Black's screeching, Remus could barely hear himself think, let alone figure out what was going on.

One thing was for certain, though – between Kreacher's vociferous defence and whatever spells had been cast on the thing either by Kreacher or one of the former occupants, that painting wasn't going anywhere. "What are we going to – "

Sirius' eyes flashed with panic for a second – or maybe it wasn't panic, just surprise that they'd been so easily bested by a painting and a house-elf – and then he grabbed Remus by the arms and shoved him down the corridor and through a door.

It closed behind them with a reassuring thunk, deadening the noise of Mrs Black's screeching, and they flattened themselves against the frame, coughing a little from the dust. Remus blinked as he tried to comprehend what had just happened, his eyes adjusting to the light. Of course they'd both expected that things wouldn't be easy here, but even so….

He took a deep breath, eyes darting around the room.

It was marginally less gloomy in here – was it the drawing room? – owing to the large window at one end, where sunlight darted in through the gaps in the curtains, revealing what had at one time been a very handsomely patterned carpet and hangings on the walls that had been the envy of nearly everyone who'd been invited to see them.

On the other side of the door, Remus could just make out Kreacher's chuntering – he was soothing the painting, he thought, calling her mistress and saying that he would deal with the filthy interlopers if they tried to defile her memory further, and after a moment, Mrs Black's screeches died down.

Remus shot Sirius a questioning glance, not wanting to speak first and set her off again. "I didn't – " Sirius whispered. "Can you believe he's still here?"

Remus shook his head. "Maybe if we tried to placate him? I mean you are the rightful – "

"Ow!"

Sirius sprang away from the door, doubling over and clutching at his ankle. "What?"

"I don't – " Sirius hopped up and down on the spot for a moment, swearing under his breath and nearly losing his balance. He scrabbled with one hand on the sideboard to stay upright, while the other clutched at his foot. "Ouch! Oh, bloody hell!"

He drew his hand away from his foot, shaking it violently, and Remus could just make out a small, black fairy clinging to his finger, its short, sharp teeth sunk smartly into Sirius' flesh. "Doxies," he said.

Remus sent a _Stupefy_ at it and it fell to the ground, but as he looked around the room, the scale of the problem became startlingly apparent.

_Hell._

Dozens of malicious black eyes glinted out at them from the curtains, and Remus tightened his grip on his wand, sizing up the situation.

Maybe, he thought, if the doxies lined themselves up, they'd be able to _Stun_ a whole load of them at once – but the chances of that happening were nigh on infinitesimally small, and, realistically, they were encroaching on territory that had belonged to the doxies for years.

And if there was one thing doxies hated, it was people encroaching on their territory.

If they stayed, they were going to get bitten, Remus thought glumly. Potentially, quite a lot.

His mind whirred, weighing the options. Outside, in the hall, there was a psychotic screaming painting and a house-elf hell-bent on protecting it, and beyond that, who knew what else. In here, they were going to have to do battle with doxies, and probably not escape without some fairly serious bites. He swallowed. They never should have got up, he thought.

"We're trapped, aren't we?" Remus said, hoping that Sirius would have thought of some kind of genius solution to their plight.

Sirius jerked his head towards the fireplace. "There might be Floo powder," he said, although his tone said he was saying it more in hope than expectation.

"On three?" Remus said, and Sirius nodded. "One, two – "

They both sprang towards the fireplace. Sirius reached for the pot on the mantle, while Remus shot flames into the grate, just in case –

"Oh balls," Sirius said.

The pot was empty.

Remus yelped as a pair of tiny, scratchy hands fastened around his wrist, and then a set of sharp fangs pierced his skin – but, much as it stung, he had a rather more pressing concern. The air hummed with anticipation of attack, and as they both turned towards the curtains, the firelight illuminated hundreds of eyes glaring back at them. "I think we startled them," Remus said, rather hollowly.

"Hmm."

"We should have gone with slow and steady."

"Hmm."

"This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Probably."

The doxies swarmed. Remus ducked, trying to protect his head as tiny fingers clawed at his ears, his neck – Sirius managed to _Stun_ a couple in the first wave of attack, but as many as they _Stunned_ and swatted away, there were more –

As Remus felt a tiny, hairy body make its way up his trouser leg, and Sirius swore loudly, batting ineffectually at the handful of doxies that had attached themselves to his chin, Remus couldn't help thinking that they were both probably thinking the same thing.

They'd have preferred the fire-breathing maggots.

* * *

They'd always been a ragged bunch, the Order of the Phoenix. 

Remus remembered his first ever meeting, when two things had risen above his nerves and excitement to strike him: firstly, how few of them there were, and secondly, how some of the members' outfits made his shabby robes and James' unruly hair look like the height of sartorial elegance.

And it wasn't as if he'd expected everyone to look like they'd just stepped off the front cover of _Witch Weekly_, but he'd expected that at least some of them would have been a bit less eccentric looking, have a veneer of professionalism, at least.

Now, though, he found the fact that things hadn't changed much and the new Order looked every inch as ragged as the old rather comforting. He glanced around the table – it was a wonder the thing was still standing after both he and Sirius had leapt onto it in fright after they'd been rushed by some small pink creatures they'd thought might be horklumps but didn't want to take any chances with – but here it was, decked with empty mugs that had been filled with steaming tea at the start of the meeting, and empty plates where there had been piles of homemade biscuits.

Remus knew most of the people crammed into the kitchen, and some things hadn't changed – no-one wanted to be down-wind of Mundungus Fletcher, and Moody still refused to sit with his back to the door, even though these days he could see through both the back of his skull _and_ the door itself.

It was nice to see some old faces, Remus thought, people he'd known but hadn't really kept in touch with. Mr and Mrs Weasley had both made it – they talked about Harry a lot, asked for reports on how he was doing, and Remus remembered them well from the first war, how devastated they'd been by Gideon and Fabian's deaths.

It still surprised him, as it always had, how small in number the Order was, that more people weren't willing to stand up and fight, although in truth he didn't really blame them for attempting to stay out of things, having seen first hand what the consequences of not doing so could be.

There were a couple of new members, he noted, in addition to the Weasleys, but his attention kept being drawn by one in particular.

A girl.

A girl with green hair, and intriguing dark eyes.

She was here on the recommendation of Mad-Eye Moody, which was enough to pique anyone's interest, since Mad-Eye's good opinion was rarer than hen's teeth. He'd introduced her as Nymphadora Tonks, and the name had conjured images of a slightly mad, wizened old lady with purple hair, a fuzzy cardigan, and too many cats – but, evidently, this Nymphadora was nothing of the sort.

This Nymphadora was young and distinctly un-wizened, with an achingly pretty face, and the green hair falling into her eyes seemed to set it off perfectly. Rather than a fluffy cardigan, she was wearing a tight turquoise T shirt with some kind of slogan on the front – possibly the name of some band he wasn't cool enough to have heard of, and, as he took her in for the thirtieth time in as many minutes, he couldn't help but think the best word to describe her was contradiction.

Her clothes, her hair, spoke of rebellion, but here she was, giving up a Friday night to sit in a gloomy kitchen and sign herself up for duty, tying her life to the fate of people she'd never met. Her foot jiggled against the leg of her chair, but when she spoke, her voice was steady and confident, and even though she seemed so young to be an Auror, her ideas were sound, and inventive, and she'd definitely inherited Mad-Eye's talent for spotting holes in things Dark wizards could exploit, if not his paranoia.

And she was –

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he found her inexplicably intriguing.

Or maybe it wasn't particularly inexplicable at all – maybe it was just because, as he'd said to Sirius, attractive women didn't cross his path every day, and she was certainly –

She met his eye across the table, and slowly raised her eyebrows at him, half-smiling in question as to what he was doing staring at her. He smiled back, shook his head and looked away, reminded for a moment of another girl who wore bright colours in wartime, and had intrigued him when his mind wandered at a meeting.

And with that comparison resonating, and nothing but Mad-Eye's chair scraping as he got to his feet to address them about constant vigilance to distract him, Remus couldn't resist glancing back at her, even though she'd already caught him looking once.

To his surprise, those dark eyes hadn't wavered from his face, though, and this time, when he met her eye, she raised one eyebrow slightly higher, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement.

He held her gaze, raising his own eyebrow in return as if asking what _she_ was looking at, and she pursed her lips in an effort not to smile, and stuck her chin out at him indignantly, the message clear: _you looked first_.

Remus rested his elbow on the table and hid a quiet snigger behind his fingers. He was tempted to look away again – after all, what good could possibly come of him eyebrow flirting with a girl with green hair – but Moody was getting exceptionally vociferous about the importance of maintaining basic security procedures, which, according to him, included not accepting food even from people you considered to be good friends. Molly Weasley bristled in her seat and eyed the empty plates on the table with something approaching panic, as if she thought Mad-Eye was accusing her personally, but even that wasn't enough to really hold Remus' attention because, besides anything else, he remembered the lecture from the first war.

It had been a while since he'd done anything even approaching flirting with a girl, but Remus fancied that he hadn't forgotten how to do it, and so this time, when he met her eye, he held her gaze for just a moment before letting his dart down to the slogan on her T shirt, raising an eyebrow in inquiry –

He realised a second too late the inherent error in his move, and as her eyes widened in what he hoped was amused shock at what he was apparently looking at, panic seared through him. He tried to gesture surreptitiously to the front of his own shirt, indicating that he was just interested in the slogan and not anything – beneath, but Nymphadora offered him a mocking nod of disbelief, and for a full minute and a half, Remus wished the horklumps would come back and devour him.

Even for him, he thought, blowing it with a girl before actually getting the chance to speak to her was very good going.

He pressed his fingertips into his forehead and cursed himself for being a moron, and she looked away, smiling slightly – although whether it was an actual smile, or a smirk of some kind, or if it was some gesture of abject embarrassment, Remus couldn't say.

After a moment that felt at least a hundred times as long as that, she looked back again, though, meeting his eye with amused caution, and he grimaced in apology and made her snigger.

Heartened by the sound, he grimaced harder, collapsing in anguish on his hand, and this time she actually laughed, attempting to turn it into a cough at the last minute, albeit rather unsuccessfully. Moody glared down the table at her, and she shot him an apologetic look, indicating her throat with a vague wave and coughing again for effect, and then her eyes returned to Remus', and she rolled them and sighed in a manner that suggested she wasn't entirely unused to being caught.

They shared a knowing glance, a tacit agreement passing between them to be good for the rest of the meeting, and Remus studied the table, smiling to himself at the thought that he was very glad this Nymphadora had decided to give up her Friday night to sit in a potentially horklump-infested kitchen, and listen to a lecture on the dangers of talking to strangers. He was even more glad that she apparently wasn't going to hold a grudge about the T shirt thing, and he hoped she'd stay after the meeting so he could actually talk to her, because girls who were forgiving about that kind of thing were very few and far between, and since he was bound to do something stupider at some point, an attitude like that could come in handy.

"Thank you Alastor," Dumbledore said.

Remus looked up – he was certain Moody had simply paused for breath and was nowhere near finished – he hadn't mentioned the dangers of becoming inebriated in company or given his horrifying speech on pillow talk yet – but Moody sank back in his seat and Dumbledore took his place at the head of the table, leaning on it gently and looking down at them all with a smile. "We will all look forward to the next instalment," he said.

There was a general murmur of dissent, but Dumbledore ignored it, his eyebrows just belying a little amusement with a slight twitch. "That is all, for now," he said, "although I fear that in the weeks and months to come, we will be seeing entirely too much of each other. Those of you who have been given tasks will, I hope, accomplish them both safely and expediently." Dumbledore paused for a moment as if considering something, and then stood a little straighter, spreading his hands in front of him. "Alas, I have a pressing matter to attend to, and so for now, I must bid you goodnight. Molly has generously offered to provide refreshment for anyone who cares to linger and get re-, or better, acquainted, and I can heartily recommend the pineapple upside-down cake."

With a brief smile, and a nod of thanks to both Molly and Sirius, Dumbledore was gone, and Remus watched as a handful of people filtered out too, shushing themselves and each other as they passed the portrait of Mrs Black, which had effectively established its reputation as each and every person arrived.

To Remus' delight, Nymphadora remained, and he watched as she spoke to Mad-Eye, made him laugh, of all things, and then helped herself to a cup of tea, tossing a lump of sugar into it and splashing some on her fingers, then wiping them on her jeans as she glanced up to see if anyone had noticed. She saw him looking at her, rolled her eyes and blushed a little, and he stepped closer, having decided that he really couldn't not speak to her for any longer.

If he was honest, he was as keen to see if she'd live up to his rather glowing first impression as he was to see if he could make up for the confusion regarding her T shirt. "Just the fella," Mad-Eye said. "Tonks wants in on the mission to rescue Potter. Told her you're the one to speak to, but she'd be an asset in my opinion. Never can have too many Aurors on a job like that."

Remus smiled at Nymphadora in what he hoped was an encouraging, yet sorry-about-earlier, kind of fashion, although he supposed that if she'd really taken offence, she would have hexed him, or stood up and asked Dumbledore if the Order was harbouring perverts now as well as petty thieves and alleged mass-murderers.

"Glad to hear it," he said, with what he hoped was a winning and not-at-all-pervert-y smile. "I've not exactly been short of volunteers, but I'm sure your expertise will be invaluable."

"All set?" Mad-Eye said.

"Almost," Remus said. "Actually, there is an aspect that's been giving me some trouble," he added, frowning a little for effect and meeting Nymphadora's eye. "I need to get the Dursleys – that's Harry's family – out of the way, but at the moment I'm stalling on how to do it without an unnecessary amount of violence."

"Needs must, Lupin," Mad-Eye growled. "If they need clobbering, I say clobber."

"You always say clobber," Nymphadora said, chuckling a little as Mad-Eye rolled his non-magical eye and muttered something about some people just needing clobbering and there being no point pussy-footing around. She paused, her forehead creased in thought for a moment, and then she turned towards Remus slightly, raising her mug of tea to her lips. "There's a couple of things we could do," she said. "I'll put my thinking hat on, shall I?"

Remus nodded, trying not to get ahead of himself and think that her putting her thinking hat on would probably require a meeting where they discussed what she'd come up with –

Which was, of course, entirely why he'd mentioned it.

Mad-Eye glanced between them for a second, muttered something like 'probably got enough brains between you not to get us _all_ killed', and then gestured to Mundungus and stomped off for a word about cut-price cauldrons.

In his wake, Nymphadora rolled her eyes. "Just clobber them," she said under her breath, but just loud enough so he could hear her. "Half the world'd be unconscious if he had his way. He tried to hex someone on the way here for looking at him funny."

"_Were_ they looking at him funny?"

"A bit," she said, shrugging, "but I mean, he probably does look quite odd to a five year old."

Remus sniggered, and she laughed softly, too, glancing down at the floor and then back up again, meeting his eye. "I know Mad-Eye already said, but I'm Tonks," she said, biting her lip and extending her hand. "Just Tonks, unless you want your organs rearranging."

"I'm fairly fond of them where they are, actually, Tonks," he said, smiling a little as he took her hand, trying not to give in to the shivers racing through his body as she squeezed his fingers. "Remus," he said. "Remus Lupin."

Her eyes widened a little in recognition, and Remus' heart sank. "Oh, you're the – "

"Werewolf?"

"I was going to say teacher," Tonks said. She winced slightly, and then smiled in what he thought was a rather startled, yet sympathetic fashion. "But Mad-Eye told me about that, too."

"Oh."

_Idiot_.

The word had been out of Remus' mouth before he'd even had time to think about it. He hadn't meant to say it, but he'd thought she was going to and his heart had sunk, and had apparently taken his brain with it –

Remus wanted to crawl underneath the table and hide, regardless of what might be lurking down there, thinking that even by his own standards, _almost_ blowing it with a girl _before_ speaking to her, and then _definitely_ blowing it within a handful of words after he'd gone to all the effort of coming up with a ploy to see her again was really quite something.

Why on earth had he just blurted that out? He'd never told a girl he liked what he was before, let alone minutes after meeting her. He wondered what on earth his brain had been thinking, if it had even been switched on.

Remus spent the next few moments wishing he had something to bang his head on, and then stared steadfastly at the wall, desperately trying to think of something to say next, some way to retract, or counteract, his careless admission, but his heart was pounding too loudly for him to come up with even the most rudimentary conversational gambit. What _had_ he been thinking?

A voice in his head called him all the names under the sun – but then, out of nowhere, two thoughts seemed to occur almost simultaneously, and the more he thought about them, the more important they seemed. The first was that he'd apparently decided that he liked her (and he did, he thought, but when had _that_ happened?), and the second was that, well, _not_ telling girls he liked hadn't exactly worked out for him in the past, had it?

And she hadn't run away screaming, had she?

Or if she had, she'd done it very quietly and out of his peripheral vision.

That was a glimmer, wasn't it, of hope?

At least this way, he supposed, he'd saved himself dozens of sleepless nights wondering when was the right time to bring the subject up – although, on reflection, there was every chance that he'd just traded those for dozens of nights lying awake wondering if the reason she didn't return his feelings – which she of course wouldn't – was down to what he'd said or just him in general.

Idiot.

Silence seemed to stretch between them, made all the more palpable by the sound of Sirius and Kingsley's mingled laughter drifting over from the other side of the room, but after a moment, Remus heard what he thought was Tonks shifting her stance a little, although he was still too nervous to look and check.

"Actually," Tonks said, quietly, "Mad-Eye's exact words were, I believe, 'might seem a bit wet, but he's a canny fighter' – and then there was some stuff about not letting stupid prejudices cloud my judgement about you." Remus abandoned the in-depth study of the mould on the kitchen wall he was making and chanced a glance in her direction. "And then there was a whole lecture on how an Auror should always make her own mind up about people, based on evidence she's seen with her own two eyes, not on reputations, hearsay, folklore, or preconceived notions, good or bad." She smiled at him and then wrinkled her nose. "Wasn't really listening," she added, although there was a kindness in her eyes that rather belied her words.

A smile tugged, cautiously, on Remus' lips, his heart did some kind of almost-leap, and he found that he didn't know quite what to say.

Half of him wanted to just keep blurting things out – that Mad-Eye could clobber who he wanted if he said things like that about him – that he was sorry for not breaking what he was to her more gently – that as introductions went, this one had been rather more in-at-the-deep-end than he ideally would have liked.

He _even_ half wanted to blurt out that he was sorry for accidentally staring at her chest earlier, that he hadn't meant to, he was just interested in the origins of the slogan, although somewhere inside he knew that nothing made it sound more like he _had_ been staring at her chest than proclaiming, out of nowhere, that he hadn't been.

The rest of him swallowed heavily, meeting her eye with a seriousness, a weight, he would have liked to save for when he knew her a little better. "Thanks," he said, quietly. "I didn't mean to just blurt it out like that."

Tonks shrugged, and smiled a little timidly. "What's it they say?" she said. "Better out than in?"

He chuckled softly, and, for a moment, he just looked at her, not really knowing what else to say, because she'd rather made anything he could say superfluous, and he didn't want to blurt out something truly stupid, like how much he thought he might like her, given a quarter of a chance. He settled for a slight smile, hoping that would could convey some proportion of the gratitude he felt, the tingling of possibility in his stomach.

Another moment passed, although rather more easily, and Tonks glanced down at her boots, shifted her weight a little and peered back up at him through her fringe. "So here we are, then," she said, "in equal wizarding opportunities corner."

"What?"

"Oh come on," she said. She eyed the other people in the room with mock furtiveness, and then leant in. "If you're the resident werewolf, and I'm the resident Metamorphmagus, it's obvious we both got in as part of some kind of quota."

"You're a Metamorph – "

Before he could finish the word, Tonks screwed her nose up, and where there had been a shaggy green bob, there were now loose, telephone box red curls. "See?" she said. "I mean it's obvious, really, when you think about it. The Order's all about wizarding correctness. There's Mad-Eye, holding up the end for the differentially-abled – Sirius is an ex-con, we've got far too many redheads – there's Kingsley, the folically-challenged, and, well, Snape's obviously here making a stand for equal rights for the shampoo-phobic."

"Well when you put it like that," Remus said, sniggering slightly, almost afraid of what her easy charm might make him blurt out next.

Tonks grinned at him and then looked away for a moment, and he ran a hand over his jaw, wondering if he should really say what he thought he was about to. But she'd been immensely sweet in her efforts to diffuse his awkwardness and embarrassment, and had responded to his blurting in a way he would only previously have imagined in his wildest dreams, and so –

"I like your T shirt."

Tonks' eyes darted back to his in an instant, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes," she said, "I did notice you _admiring_ it earlier."

"I wasn't – the slogan just caught – " He stalled as her eyebrow inched higher in blatant, mocking disbelief. "Who's the band?" he said instead, deciding on a different tack, although he couldn't help thinking that even if she did think he'd been staring at things he really shouldn't have been, she didn't appear to be holding a grudge about it.

"Weird Sisters," she said. "I love their new album, don't you?"

He winced apologetically. "Should I have heard of them?"

"Probably," she said, laughing a little into her mug of tea. "You'll be filling the quota for people with questionable taste in music as well then, will you?"

"One musically-challenged werewolf," he said, "reporting for duty."

He smiled, and she grinned at him cheekily, and as they chatted for a while about how completely out of touch he was with wizarding music, Remus couldn't help thinking that even though he'd suffered doxy bites by the dozen, his ears still rang from Mrs Black's welcome, and he had a handful of new grey hairs from Kreacher's surprise attack, it had all been worth it.

Bruises and doxy bites and frights seemed a very small a price to pay for the privilege of standing in a gloomy kitchen, being gently mocked by a girl with telephone box red hair, who knew what he was, and flirted with him anyway.

* * *

"So, Moony's in love, then?" Sirius said, settling back in his chair and smirking. 

"What?"

The meeting was long over, and everyone had gone home, leaving only them, a stack of washing up, and a bottle of Firewhiskey in the kitchen. It was after midnight, and despite some murmured good-intentions about keeping the place spick and span since they'd gone to so much trouble to make it fit for human habitation, the Firewhiskey had been getting a little more attention than the washing up.

After the meeting, Tonks had lingered longer than nearly everyone, until Kingsley had joked about her having, last time he checked, a perfectly good home to go to, when her cheeks had reddened to nearly the same shade as her hair and she'd bid everyone goodnight.

Before she'd gone, she'd made a point of asking what night might be convenient for her to pop round and discuss the plan to retrieve Harry, and before he'd thought it through properly, Remus had said he'd be here every night because he really didn't have anything better to do – only realising after the words had left his mouth that in his eagerness to appear available, he hadn't really cast himself in a terribly attractive light. Tonks had laughed, though, and said she might see him on Tuesday, then.

And if it was honest, it couldn't come quickly enough.

He liked her.

And at first it had just been an idle kind of like based on eyebrow flirting and the fact that when she peered at him through her green, then red, fringe, she did funny things to his insides, but the things she'd said about making her own mind up about him –

Well, the more he'd thought about it, the more he liked that she was prepared to.

They'd chatted for most of the evening, in the end.

Sirius had come up at some point and swapped their tea for Firewhiskey, but mostly they'd been alone, talking about the big clean-up the place had been through and how much there still was to do. Remus had even shown her the scar on his wrist from his first doxy bite, and she'd laughed at the story, but pouted sympathetically at the pale patch of skin beneath his watch strap.

She was easy company, he thought, full of amusing anecdotes to fill any gaps in the conversation, and by the time he closed the front door behind her and tip-toed back down the corridor, he felt like he'd known her for years, not hours.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, smirking more widely and reaching for his Firewhiskey. "I saw you, flirting with the new girl."

"I wasn't – "

"Yes you were. And she's my cousin, too – you know, I think we're going to have to have words about that," Sirius said, wagging his finger at him, but grinning at the same time and rather undoing the effect.

"Oh good," Remus said, reaching for his glass. "I'll look forward to it."

He took a sip of his drink and set the glass back on the table quietly, tracing the rim with his fingertip and smiling slightly to himself at the thought of a joke Tonks had told about two Aurors and a light bulb. "It's been a while since I saw you look like that," Sirius said.

"You've been in prison for thirteen years," Remus replied. "It's been a while since you saw me look like anything."

Sirius glowered, and Remus sniggered, running a hand over his jaw and wondering why it was that the simple act of meeting someone – a girl, who he didn't even know that well – had made everything, the world at large, what they had to face, better.

"What was it James called it?" Sirius said, frowning and gesturing vaguely to Remus' face with an airy wave. "Part hopeful puppy – " Sirius trailed off, frowning harder as he fought to remember, and Remus sighed.

"Part hopeful puppy, part romantic hero," he said, folding his arms across his chest and sinking back in his chair, "and just tinged with desperation."

"Yes," Sirius said, throwing his head back as he laughed. "That's it. That's it exactly."

Remus sulked for a moment, but he could barely contain the grin that lurked just below the surface, and so he relented, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "Is it really that obvious?" he said.

"Only to me," Sirius said, "and I'm a seasoned Remus-observer. You wore exactly the same expression after you decided what's-her-face was the love of your life, _and_ after your little indiscretion in the broom cupboard. It's a dead giveaway."

"Oh good. I'm sure the tinge of desperation is really attractive."

Remus stared at his glass, and Sirius chuckled quietly, reaching for the Firewhiskey and pouring them both a generous top-up. "Are you going to ask her out?"

"We only just met – "

"I know," Sirius said, "but there's a war on and time waits for no man."

"Maybe," Remus said, and then frowned.

"You're not, are you? You're going to brood for months and there'll be endless bloody moping, not to mention some very dodgy music."

Remus laughed. "Probably," he said. He took a long sip of his drink, smiling up at Sirius from the hand he was resting on. "I told her," he said quietly. "I told her I'm a werewolf."

"Really?"

Sirius' eyebrows darted up in surprise, and Remus nodded. "I didn't mean to," he said. "It just happened."

"What did she say?"

Remus let out a long, slow sigh that was half a chuckle and half nothing of the sort. "Exactly the right thing," he said, although his tone was rather more rueful than he intended.

Exactly the right thing, he thought. She _had_ said exactly what he'd always wanted to hear, that what he was mattered less than who, that she wouldn't treat him like a werewolf so much as a man who just happened to be one – and the prospect of that, that someone he liked, had been intrigued by anyway, thought that in addition – well, it was wonderful. Almost unimaginably so.

"Why don't you ask her out, then?" Sirius said. "I mean that's always been the big hurdle, hasn't it?"

"What if she says no?" Remus said. "Then things would be awkward and difficult, and she'd feel odd around me – and I don't want that. Friends who don't mind are hard enough to come by, let alone anything – else – more than that."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You're such a bloody pessimist. What if she doesn't say no?" he said. "You know, women have been known to say yes to you on more than one occasion – " Remus' jaw tensed of its own occurred and he frowned. " – and don't pout at me like that, Moony. I was there – I remember it."

"Still – "

"What's the worst that can happen?"

"She says no, laughs in my face – or worse – and I'm plunged into a deep pit of depression when I realise I've got nothing left to live for, and spend the rest of my days crippled by an unerring, foggy despair."

Sirius grinned. "I missed you being all melodramatic about girls," he said, and Remus glared at him, though that just made Sirius grin harder.

"And in retribution for you forcing me to ask in the first place," Remus said, tersely, "I make you to live out your days with me, and listen incessantly to Joni Mitchell."

"You wouldn't," Sirius said, sinking back in his chair, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Wouldn't I?"

Remus met Sirius' eye threateningly and hummed a few bars from _Big Yellow Taxi,_ and Sirius clutched at his chest, moaning as if he was in pain until Remus stopped humming and laughed."Seriously, though," Sirius said, reaching for his glass, "you said it yourself – eligible women don't cross your path every day."

"I know."

"And ones who don't mind your furry little problem are even fewer and further between."

"I know."

"And I think that's worth a gamble, don't you?"

Remus sighed. He supposed Sirius was right – but what she'd said, well, it raised the stakes, and in all honesty, he wasn't so much afraid of her saying no – although obviously that would be crushing – as her saying yes, and what would happen then.

Before, the only thing he'd ever really stood to lose was his heart, but this – well, it felt like more than that.

And he knew he was getting ahead of himself – so far ahead of himself he could barely make out his own figure, dashing off into the distance, but somehow those feelings didn't seem entirely out of place, either.

"I'm really not very good with girls," Remus said. "I mean if you remember girls saying yes, you must remember the mess I'm capable of making of things when they do."

Sirius shrugged. "You only need to get it right once, though, don't you?" he said. "And not to get a reputation as a hopeless romantic, but maybe the reason you messed up with all the others was that they weren't the right girl."

"That is hopelessly romantic," Remus said, smiling a little at the thought.

"Indulge me, Moony," Sirius said. "It's been a long week."

Remus laughed, hard, and then sank back in his chair.

Maybe Sirius was right, he thought, although he could barely believe he was even entertaining the notion that Sirius was right about anything, since he was the one who'd suggested Grimmauld in the first place and was therefore responsible for their subsequent injuries.

It _was_ hopelessly romantic to think that he'd never got it right before because he wasn't meant to –

But the fact was that the instant Tonks' eyes had met his across the table, something long dormant had stirred inside him, some feeling he'd been searching for but had never quite found.

For a moment, his thoughts wandered, faces from the past drifting in and out, and the more he thought about it, the more one, single idea seemed to solidify in his mind.

He'd never expected to be, but he was glad that everything that had happened in the past had happened.

He was glad that Olivia had handed him a note and ripped his heart out, although he couldn't deny that he still bore something of a grudge towards David sodding Reynolds and _he_ definitely had a cruciferous vegetable head hex coming if Remus ever saw him again.

He was glad that things hadn't worked out with Susan – not that they were ever likely to have done, when they'd started out on such an uneven footing, but still – and he was glad Elsa had seen through him, gone on to find someone more worthy of her affection, someone who already had all the same books she did, and dozens of ludicrous theories of his own that made perfect sense when he explained them.

He was glad that Lucidia hadn't wanted to make a go of things, although sometimes, when it was cold, he still thought he could feel a lump on the back of his head where he'd whacked it on the shelf in that broom cupboard.

He was _even_ glad he'd met Heather Noonan, he thought, because now at least he knew that there were some people you had to deal with like a seventeen year old, whatever age they were, something that had come in achingly useful when he'd convinced himself he was in the right as he practiced a charm to make his doorknocker fire bat droppings at Dolores Umbridge. He frowned at the thought that actually, that was a bit of a lie. Mostly, when it came to Heather, he was just glad she wasn't here….

He was glad for Hattie, though, that she'd understood that he liked her a lot and the circumstances just weren't right, even if her brother hadn't understood that at all and the resulting bruise had lasted for a very long time.

He smiled at the thought that that, he supposed, brought him to Lily.

There was so much to be glad about when it came to Lily, although in the years since she'd died, he'd missed her very much. Her friendship, what they'd had, he'd always be glad about that, because she'd given him hope, and had there ever been a more precious gift than that?

He was glad for the time he'd spent with Malina, too, and though he'd regretted giving in to cowardice and not following her to Poland every day for years, he was glad that he hadn't, because she'd found someone wonderful, and had made the life she'd always wanted for herself. And Claire. His heart had never really been in that, he thought, but he couldn't say he really regretted it, if only for the amusing vase-related break-up story.

He let out a soft breath of laughter, and Sirius looked up, meeting his eye and raising an eyebrow. "What?" he said.

Remus shook his head, running his hand across his jaw and trying to ease out his giveaway smile. "Nothing," he said. "Just thinking."

" 'bout what?"

"Love," he said. "Girls. Tonks."

Sirius laughed. "Oh, well, that's where the trouble normally starts," Sirius said, "with the thinking."

"Isn't it just," Remus replied. "And then come the sleepless nights, the worrying what your hair looks like, the ache in you chest when you think they don't like you back but you can't get them out of your mind – "

"That's what makes it worth it, though, isn't it?" Sirius said. "That it's not easy."

"Hmm," Remus murmured.

That, he thought, and the possibility that one day, it might be.

He drained his Firewhiskey, but the glow that set up camp in his stomach was nothing to do with what he was drinking, and everything to do with the thought of Tuesday, and seeing Tonks, hearing her ideas for the Dursleys. Maybe, he thought, if he was feeling brave, he'd persuade her to stay for dinner, and see where that lead, test out if what he thought he felt for her was really as scary and monumental and wonderful as he thought it might be.

And in the wake of that, he thought, none of his past failings seemed to matter, because maybe this time, she'd make sure he got it right.

Remus reached for the Firewhiskey and topped up their glasses. "A toast," he said, and Sirius raised an eyebrow along with his glass.

"Is this going to be hopelessly romantic?"

"Well you started it," Remus muttered, and Sirius laughed. "Here's to – "

"Do you promise not to go all mopey and pathetic?"

"How can I possibly promise that, Padfoot?" Remus said. "It's not like I ever did it on purpose."

"But you're older now. You must have learned how to avoid some of the pitfalls?"

"I'll know to watch out for low shelves if we ever end up in a broom cupboard," Remus said, and Sirius laughed.

"That's it?" he said, nearly snorting with amusement. "In twenty years, the only thing you've learned about dealing with the opposite sex is to look out for low-flying shelves?"

"Well it hurt a lot," Remus said. "Made a big impression. Sometimes it still aches in the cold."

Sirius spluttered into his drink, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Oh, Moony," he said. "I do believe you're well and truly doomed."

"Well," Remus said, raising his glass, "I'll drink to that."

He clinked his glass against Sirius', and they fell into easy conversation about their time at school, all the girls they'd known and some of the particularly memorable encounters they'd had. There was a good deal of mocking on Sirius' part, although Remus didn't really mind it, because he wouldn't have changed those experiences, that life he'd chanced upon when it was what he least expected, for anything.

If nothing else, he thought, if none of that had happened, if he'd made a go of things with any one of those girls, as he might well have done, he wouldn't have met Tonks –

And _that_, Remus thought, would have been the biggest disaster of them all.

* * *

**A/N: Many, many thanks to all of you who have reviewed the previous chapters. Anyone reviewing this last one gets a great big hug from a slightly tipsy werewolf, and possibly a slightly boozy snog, too ;).**


End file.
